Evening Air

Abstract

Evening air settles thin on the quieter side of a second hand’s flirtation with three. Eyes, choosing to abandon dreams, are left alone on mattresses dressed only in single white sheets. In the night, the windowsill of 412 frames a face and titles it ‘Perplexed’. Look at its gaze. How it moves between the swing set and its rust soaked skin. The radio tower resting on the pinnacle of the towns stone and dirt, and the light emanating from buildings not yet succumbed to sleep. The rays make the pavement glow an early shade of dawn. The face, belonging to Simon James Kingston, produced jointly by Amelia Thorne Kingston and (the late) Robert Dave Kingston lowers the corner of its lips a barely discernible amount. For a moment, you’d think it was about to cry.