Linguistic Erosion

Contributor: Mario Esquer - - “The eyes are always the hardest to capture. . .” He bent over his easel and studied his inspiration. He had gone from the cerulean blue penthouse studio he lived in down to muted shadows of the city to rescue her. Left the secure world of his colors and canvas then descended into the writhing darkness of a metropolis in its death throes. He fought his way through the polychromatic riot of the panicking masses. All the way, always just a scant block ahead of the crimson tide of horror and death. He had found her then, found his lover amongst her family in the affluent neighborhood of rouged brick and gray stones. It was the place he had been told all his life he was not good enough for, that the affluent and pastel colored angels did not smile upon the lowly such as he. A bright silken angel had noticed...

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