Why do I like it?
Well, sure, I know it’s a hotel room painting, not worth anything. But I don’t buy Art for Investment.
Staring down the railroad tracks, I realize it is a metaphor for my life.
See there, tiny in the background, those two figures? My parents, young , from when I was just a child myself.
In the middle, the little girl? That’s my daughter, walking home from a long day in grade school.
The dog in the foreground is Rex, my last and best friend.
The pile of dirt the tracks run down represents… Oh, of course.
In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt: