watercolour and ink on paper
Club votes
Images from the news collaged together, or... He thought about it, he thought about it most days. And like most days, once again he couldn't decide. Once again the idea of starting again was onerous, but there seemed to be no way of fixing the rut he was in. No way of getting the wheels of his life turning in ant other direction except along this dreary swamp. And to the left, to the right, all about him there were the people stuck in their euts, parallel ruts. Some of them happy, chipper, like they liked the rut, the certainty it gave them. Who would they vote for now?
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