Started, stopped, started, looong break, tired of it, posted.
07/2018: I drew this from a composite of references, looking for one that closely resembled a woman I saw many years ago. I was vacationing in Miami Beach and my friend and I went into a cafe in the Art Deco district. It was small, almost empty and straight out of a film noir movie. My friend and I took a table that gave us a view of the very busy street outside. I looked over my shoulder and there at the empty bar sat a woman in a very worn party dress from the 1920s or so. She had on old paste jewelry with many stones missing. There was a huge old cheap ring on her very bony finger as she held a near-empty whiskey glass. She was so thin and her straggly hair was graying with yellow/orange strands leftover from previous old dye jobs. She sat as straight as she could on her bar stool but age had stooped her shoulders. I don’t think I had ever seen a more pitiful person who obviously had seen better days, now lost in booze and old memories. It made me so sad. She eventually finished her drink and staggered out into the bright heat of the Miami Beach sun to totter off down the sidewalk. So refined in her mind, so broken in her being. Is there dignity in the bottle? No. She had it already and I’ve never forgotten her.
Thanks so much for the heart, Fire Dove