Anyway just the way the boat is rocked back and forth and how the boards creak is something that reminds me of my aunt who died a good ten years ago. Amazing woman who saved me from my parents and more or less allowed me to become the man I am today. She was generally a sad woman, but she tried very hard. There were these paintings that she collected. I remember when the paintings were confiscated. There had been an investigation in the neighborhood. We, being raccoon, and especially because of who my parents are -- we were suspected. They took my aunt's paintings. Nothing fancy, small things she collected from her trips to Oklahoma and Tennessee and Texas, but still. They were hers. And a few of them had matured and could be sold for a good sum. Well, when she was released from jail, and when the paintings were returned to her, she never hung them back up. They were left to rot in a closet. I remember one of those was this beautiful impressionist type thing from a crane who had immigrated from Hong Kong. My aunt actually had tea with him before buying the painting. He was a character, my aunt said. Nothing more about him.

Art by  Fluxom
Buster is me.