Two men on the porch of an old house in an old part of town.
One black, one white.
One old, one young.
One in a wheelchair, one perched on the railing of the porch.
One deeply involved in the telling of a story, one leaned near, listening quietly.
I saw them for just the second it took me to drive by and I wondered what brought them together. What story was being told.
5 comments:
I LOVE this picture.
Amazing to see my name in print, and it not refer to me at all. I STILL cannot get used to that after a lifetime of being the ONLY Keetha I know.
Keetha, I know what you mean!
This post is great - thanks for sharing that "picture." I can see it, too, and now I'm wondering about the story.
My name is not Keetha... can I still comment?? :)
That is an awesome picture! You always have had the ability to paint one with your words!
Missing you and home more this week than most. See you soon.
dd
Oh, I'm liking the picture of David missing you right now.
The process of collecting mental snapshots takes up much of my day, so I love this.
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