Railroaded

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.

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In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT –© Dawn Q. Landau
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9 thoughts on “Railroaded”

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