http://slow.writerscafe.org/LisaHickey The original writings of author Lisa Hickey en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776042578 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 This is the story I want to tell you about Picasso: light, natural as straw, through the east window, rays and dust. He squeezes long worms of paint, criss-crossing a ceramic plate. Hovers the palette knife over a canvas that smells of vinegar. Pauses.Presses and wipes, presses, wipes,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LisaHickey/517054/ It is on the corner of Beech and Maplethat I suddenly forget which world I am in.It is the sight of the flatbed truck that does it,the truck that carts threestone tombs.Encrusted with glittering gems,each tomb is large enough to fit a family. A man in a suitcoat waltzes towards.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LisaHickey/516728/ Yesterday, you were the quick brown fox that jumped over thelazy dog; you were alphabet soup, ((you were anything but blood and bones, youwere the last love letter sent by sailing ship across the stormy seas.)) Youwere black and white characters on a blank screen. ((you were not lips andfi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LisaHickey/516653/ I push the metal cart up and down the supermarket aisle.Pile in processed food after processed food, unable to find the produce department. I slide overto the gym to lift weights, but since I’ve forgotten how to countI can’t get past the eighth rep. The rooms here are all sq.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LisaHickey/516639/