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Some people love the smell of gasoline.

His anger made him utter endless obscenities.

They decided to set traps for the mice.

Her delicious sweat smelled like freshly cut roses.

The oboe concerto was full of energy and beautiful precision.

In most cases amnesia victims quickly recover their memory.

The folder contained horrifying photographs.

A toxic narcissist has no empathy or compassion.

The top floor of the abandoned factory was very eerie.

That documentary on wooden rollercoasters was fascinating.

It was so bad they had to carry the little girl’s mother out of the funeral parlor.

In spite of the simplicity no two baseball games are alike.

The Golden Dragon restaurant was a fixture in Chinatown.

Little Girl Lost is probably my favorite Twilight Zone episode.

Photo by Madelynn Woods on Unsplash

Peter J. Dellolio

Peter Dellolio was born 1956 New York City. Went to Nazareth High School and New York University. Graduated 1978: BA Cinema Studies; BFA Film Production. Published many 250-1000 word articles on the arts, film, dance, sculpture, architecture, and culture, as well as fiction, poetry, one-act plays, and critical essays on art, film, and photography. Poetry collections “A Box Of Crazy Toys” published 2018 by Xenos Books/Chelsea Editions and “Bloodstream Is An Illusion Of Rubies Counting Fireplaces” published February 2023 by Cyberwit/Rochak Publishing.

One Comment

  • Emily Jane VandenBos Style says:

    Dear Brother,
    by Wendy Videlock

    I too
    am still learning to unlearn
    ……..the childhood third-degree burn,

    the jagged breath, the relative
    …… of contempt,
    the rush to batten down the hatches,
    ….the need to hoard

    the book of matches. I too
    …… still learning to unlearn
    the book that turns to ashes,
    the lie that serves no purpose, the lie
    ….that swears that you

    are worthless. I too am still learning
    ….to unlearn the curse of the certain,
    to reverse the locked and loaded,
    to suspend the assumption
    ….of the ugly motive,
    the corrupt and the corroded.
    ….I too am still learning

    ….to unlearn the wrought iron word,
    and the rock solid cure.
    ……..My brother, in the mirror
    of the triggered, in the glass
    ….of the imprisoned in the stories
    of reflection

    are the remnant of revision,
    ……..are the cousins of correction,
    ….are the sages and the saplings
    and the burning of the learnings,
    are the blessings
    ….of the waters, are the curtains
    …………slowly parting,
    ……..are the rivers
    ….in their turning,
    ……..are the ripples of unlearning.