My 11/03/25 postcard is a single leaf I found along Constitution Avenue, spotted and worn, bearing the marks of cold nights, part decay, part endurance. The life that surrounded it, now fading into the background. It’s the story of change written on a surface that’s still hanging on, past its season.
My 01/09/26 postcard is a spent rose, its curls curling inward, its petals folded and…
My 01/08/26 postcard is a small group of pink plastic flamingos standing in a loose…
My 01/07/26 postcard is a spent flower hanging from a curved stem, its petals wrinkled…
My 01/06/26 postcard is a roadrunner standing rigid on the edge of a wall on…
My 01/05/26 postcard is a split seed pod from a red hesperaloe, its thick, textured…
My 01/04/26 postcard is a man kneeling at the edge of Washington Street, carefully tending…
