| Search results - "cloud" |
0 viewsShe ducked beneath a clouded sheet of plastic.The noodle stall was crowded: squat blue tanks of butane, the three cooking grids with their tall pots, plastic sacks of noodles, stacks of foam bowls, and the shifting bulk of the big Korean as he tended his pots."Sit," he said; she sat on a yellow plastic canister of MSG, her head below the level of the counter."You're Japanese?" "Yes," she said.
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3 viewsShe stepped between the noodle stall and another that advertised something called roti, this word worked in deliriously colored spraybomb capitals trimmed with looping, luminous blobs.That stall smelled of spices and stewing meat.Her feet were very cold.She ducked beneath a clouded sheet of plastic.
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1 viewsThe one who came was named Mamman Brigitte, or Grande Brigitte, and while some think her the wife of Baron Samedi, others name her "most ancient of the dead." The dream architecture of the Colony rose to Angie's left, a riot of form and ego.Frail-looking neon-embedded replicas of the Watts Towers lifted beside neo-Brutalist bunkers faced with bronze bas-reliefs.Walls of mirror, as she passed, reflected morning banks of Pacific cloud.There had been times, during the past three years, when she had felt as though she were about to cross, or recross, a line, a subtle border of faith, to find that her time with the loa had been a dream, or, at most, that they were contagious knots of cultural resonance remaining from the weeks she'd spent in Beauvoir 's New Jersey oumphor.
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0 viewsIt crashed into the wet street in a cloud of smoke and then they were over it, turning, the hover accelerating."This is awfully crude, isn't it?" Angie said, and actually laughed."I know," Molly said, intent on her driving."Sometimes that's just the way to go.
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0 viewsShe glanced north, along the jumble of beach houses, the confusion of rooflines reminding her of a Rio barrio, then turned south, toward the Colony.The one who came was named Mamman Brigitte, or Grande Brigitte, and while some think her the wife of Baron Samedi, others name her "most ancient of the dead." The dream architecture of the Colony rose to Angie's left, a riot of form and ego.Frail-looking neon-embedded replicas of the Watts Towers lifted beside neo-Brutalist bunkers faced with bronze bas-reliefs.Walls of mirror, as she passed, reflected morning banks of Pacific cloud.
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0 viewsIt crashed into the wet street in a cloud of smoke and then they were over it, turning, the hover accelerating."This is awfully crude, isn't it?" Angie said, and actually laughed."I know," Molly said, intent on her driving."Sometimes that's just the way to go.
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0 viewsHe got in the driver's side and peeled off the gloves.He started the car; she watched a blowing cloud reflected in the copper-mirrored side of a business tower."He'll think I stole it," she said, looking down at the jacket.Then the wiz flashed a final card, ragged cascade of neurons across her synapses: Cleveland in the rain and a good feeling she had once, walking.
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Clouds by Frans Lanting1 views Clouds by Frans Lanting
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0 viewsShe glanced north, along the jumble of beach houses, the confusion of rooflines reminding her of a Rio barrio, then turned south, toward the Colony.The one who came was named Mamman Brigitte, or Grande Brigitte, and while some think her the wife of Baron Samedi, others name her "most ancient of the dead." The dream architecture of the Colony rose to Angie's left, a riot of form and ego.Frail-looking neon-embedded replicas of the Watts Towers lifted beside neo-Brutalist bunkers faced with bronze bas-reliefs.Walls of mirror, as she passed, reflected morning banks of Pacific cloud.
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0 viewsShe got in.He got in the driver's side and peeled off the gloves.He started the car; she watched a blowing cloud reflected in the copper-mirrored side of a business tower."He'll think I stole it," she said, looking down at the jacket.
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0 viewsShe got in.He got in the driver's side and peeled off the gloves.He started the car; she watched a blowing cloud reflected in the copper-mirrored side of a business tower."He'll think I stole it," she said, looking down at the jacket.
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0 viewsHer feet were very cold.She ducked beneath a clouded sheet of plastic.The noodle stall was crowded: squat blue tanks of butane, the three cooking grids with their tall pots, plastic sacks of noodles, stacks of foam bowls, and the shifting bulk of the big Korean as he tended his pots."Sit," he said; she sat on a yellow plastic canister of MSG, her head below the level of the counter.
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