The reporter scribbled frantically, not hearing the differences that Mike White wished to articulate, just getting them onto his notepad. The writer would figure out what his interviewee meant later. Mr. White was a renowned boxing cornerman, and whatever he said was noteworthy to the journalist.
Which one was it? asked the tall one again. He took up almost the whole room, standing there looking down at the still man on the little cot-like bed. He was difficult to see: the lamp lay dark beside the overturned bed-side table, and the bare bulb down the hallway pushed only a half-shadow through the door.
I met Biv at the hotel, where she was famous already. It was a large three-star several blocks away from the Nashville airport, with a splashing fountain in the atrium and twangy muzak played loud to cover up the roar of planes.
She gave life to those Kenneth Cole loafers and those Liz Claiborne sweaters. She gave that Goody hairbrush life and that Covergirl mascara. She gave life to that Anne Klein watch and that gold bracelet.
Im shopping for groceries when I smell that smell, or rather her smell: lavender, fruit, and sandalwood. The smell of the most beautiful girl Ive ever been with. And I just freeze. Right in the middle of aisle six holding a plastic green grocery basket filled with chips, salsa, and vanilla ice cream.
I grew up and was formed by Brooklyn of the 1970's. I began making these photo constructions while looking for a way to depict the non-linear way that memory describes itself. This surreal and drifty narrative is both nostalgic and intimate. I am genuinely searching for a new, non-book way of storytelling and this is what it looks like.
T. Motley is a core contributor to Cartozia Tales, a fantasy mapjam comic for all ages.