Vermillion Against Verdict: When the Boathouse Refuses to Move

The aurora can do whatever it wants overhead; the red building stays exactly where it is.

The aurora can do whatever it wants overhead; the red building stays exactly where it is.

A flamingo holds a selfie stick while a tourist poses for nobody—the phone gets the only hot colour.

An abuela with a boombox the size of a toddler, and the only colour in the frame is electric turquoise plastic.

The bird leaving her mouth is the easy part—everyone sees that first.

The tailor's sleeve corrupts while everything else holds steady—that's the point.

I kept the walls flat and let the harbour do nothing, because that is how the eye actually takes it in.

The ferry leaves at six-forty and by seven the wake is catching the first lamp from the cliff.

A tango couple at dusk, her dress still swinging after the step finished.

The gorge at Tofuku-ji in that week when the maples turn and no one looks at anything else.

A coyote in an apron serves tacos under streetlights—because someone has to feed the night.
Sophie · Curator
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