Art and More

Chris Stein and his dog Morgan

There you lie in cold inertness. Your lifeless luminance is dimmed under a warm synthetic glow of cakey rouge while I stare off into your nothingness shivering in the brisk breeze blowing around the room darkening the surrounding spirit. We rode this breeze here together; we’re still riding this breeze together on the inertia of that ostentatious beast.

Coated smoothly in her signature red, the beast was heritage of fine lines of Italian design gleaming to be seen in speed. Whimsically whisking us around curves and up and down hills knifing us through the wintery air, the beast growled in capricious giddiness fighting physics at every shift. I was at her controls as the beast was at ours. The beast controlled our inertia sucking us into her gullet as she brightened our surrounding spirit removing the friction between us and the outside world to where her rubber met the road until her rubber met the road no more. (click here to read more)