Crusty doormat, orb sconce, and elevated window. Three locks comes standard for this bold shade of brew—lots of cream please.
Decomposing tumbleweeds in a dusty alcove. Setting sun casts shadows and heat signatures. Bleached, burnt, baked.
Laminate contaminate and yin-yang swirls. Portable plywood facade and a vacuous black hole, secret eave access.
Kicks, bumps, dings, scuffs, a succulent sorbet surrounds this Rorschach blot.
Flaky and crumbly paint, a scrumptious blueberry tart for two. Completed by post-dessert cigarettes.
As above, so below; what lays behind the grungy, green door, some will never know. As within, so without; always, full of doubt.
Streaking dirt and water form a bark-like texture. Rust bleeds and seeps from metal pipes and parking post. Butterfly hinges abound.
Sunburned and peeling asphalt leads to a nasty curb. Corrugated metal and fiberglass and the tiniest orange leaf you ever did see.
Proper ventilation for back-alley blues. Smeared surface, splattered and sleazy side-walls. Please, no overnight parking.
Pull-handle and tall lock, complete with call-box. Creamy stucco is interrupted by unevenly rolled paint. Is the Painter unacquainted with high nap?