Postcards From the Muse

The old house sits on its own little acre of land.  It’s beautiful in its dilapidation, sunburned gray siding, broken windows, roof falling in.  You can’t stop looking at it and wondering about its story.

How many old buildings have you seen as you drive down the road, ancient places full of history and drama?  Do you notice shapes moving around inside?  Do you think that if you listen closely you will hear whispering?  Eerie music?  Phantom laughter?

Congratulations.  You have received a postcard from your muse.

Nandy Ekle

Postcards From the Muse

The old house sits on its own little acre of land.  It’s beautiful in its dilapidation, sunburned gray siding, broken windows, roof falling in.  You can’t stop looking at it and wondering about its story.

How many old buildings have you seen as you drive down the road, ancient places full of history and drama?  Do you notice shapes moving around inside?  Do you think that if you listen closely you will hear whispering?  Eerie music?  Phantom laughter?

Congratulations.  You have received a postcard from your muse.

Nandy Ekle