Status Updates From The Mosaic

To Me,

If there are still seasons, you're lucky. If there's still a world, you're lucky.

[...]

Take in the air and the light, the smells and sounds, then the silence. Take in one last kiss if you can.

Take in this still life.

Another part of the legend was that he fell for a girl from town who helped him with his project. They traveled to New York together where, for one night, he was known as a great artist. He gave her a chair with roses in it, which she treasured.
And their love would endure until the day that rockets hailed from the sky in a silver storm, extinguishing the sun.

What remained was a local legend. About a Marine who came home from the wars which still rage on, to make a mosaic from ammunition. Then he went back to those wars and died there.

”So is this the Mesopotamian sky or the Montana sky?” I asked him, tilting my head back.
He tilted his head back, too, our hands an inch apart.
“There’s only one sky, Twyla Lee.”