“It wasn’t a matter of time,” he said as they boarded one of the silver capsules of the London Eye. “more a matter of courage.” As the door clasped itself shut, she looked out over the Thames, somewhat deep in thought. “It was just a little weird…” she paused in her interminable way. Was she finished with her sentence? Was there more to come? The machinery began to hum and the capsule rose into the thick English air. “…to not hear from you for three months, then to hear from you at 3:30 in the morning.” He stood quietly, surveying his reflection in the glass.
Nightlife
Step out of your crisp blue winter evening and into the wild swing of Archibald Motley Jr.’s Nightlife; a vivid portrayal of the hip nocturnal
January 23, 2021
