Images from my latest exhibition
The Pledge
In the City of Angels, nothing is ever as simple as it seems …
Last Call
It was hot that summer. Damn hot. And things had just gotten hotter. Frankie had enemies. Paid his life for it. Now they were hers. She had no choice but to do the only thing she knew how. She ran.
The Set Up
These days, the only thing more bent than a cop was a reporter. They had framed her for Frankie’s murder and now they were after her. If she wanted to clear her name and get the hoods who got Frankie, she had to think fast. Real fast.
Kika
She could almost smell them coming. That rotten stench of dime-store cologne and cheap whiskey tainted the wind. She turned to the only friend she had left, and she kept running.
The Take Off
No matter how fast she ran …
The North Westerly
Or how far she travelled …
The Siren
They kept on following .
The Lure
She took one last look behind her and got an eyeful of the entire homicide squad and those goddamn newspaper men hot on her tail. She couldn’t look back again. If she did, she’d lose her nerve and it was too late for that now.
Gotcha
Finally. Back at the beginning … The City of Angels.
The Smoking Gun
“This one’s for you, Frankie.”
1 comment:
Good words.
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