Tag: Barbara Lock

| By Barbara Lock

[ Issue Issue #12 ]

The Cyanotype

I. Michael leaned over the fence, breathed in the oil and rust of twenty motorcycles. Radiant chrome spokes glinted in the soft winter light. The bikes’ back ends pointed to the sky, seats were smooth or pocked or sagging, shafts were bent or fractured. Michael gazed at indiscriminate litter in the wide sideyard: motorcycles, shards …