Tin Cup

In the moments of rage she thought if she was an ounce crazier, the outcome of the argument might be significantly worse with police and an ambulance visit. Thankfully Jen had a thin veil of sanity to prevent her from tragic decisions. The tears were burning her face. Silently enjoying the feeling of the salty water running down and collecting under her chin, she watched as they fell on her dress shaping dark spots into polka dot pattern. At the exact moment Jen reached for a tissue to wipe her nose careful not to dry her puffy face, memory of her parent's friends birthday present on her 9th birthday appeared in her mind. The present was a cup for collecting tears. It might of just been a regular tin cup, white with a small flower drawing, but attaching purpose beyond consuming liquid gave it greater importance. It refurbished its original meaning, making the cup unique no matter the boring design. Jen had lots of cups but none for tears. Many of her young innocent and not so innocent tears were collected into cylindrical container only to be washed away by chemical infused sink water. How amusing would it be if the cup was designed to categorize all of her tears throughout the years; the amount collected, reasons and outcomes. Reviewing the data might prove highly comical, she thought. Silly arguments, pointless disputes, and creative defenses hinting at her possible future as a lawyer? Presently, she wondered how much of that cup she could fill up. The tin cup was long thrown out when her parents moved, recycled she hoped for another less personal use.

He commented on her selfishness, she mounted an attack supported by evidence from the last three years he would have forgotten by now. No cup to sit with, slight ounces of rage in each drop making a splash at impact with metal, slowly collecting an Alice in Wonderland river, excreting anger from her body.

Soviet Country Bus Stops

I found it highly inspirational, because I vaguely remember when I was young (7/8 years) seeing bus stops similar to the ones above in Crimea while on vacation on Black Sea, and in other rural areas of USSR. There was one in particular close to the resort that we were staying at, it was almost a sculpture because its design did not shelter from the weather conditions as a bus stop should. The beams were not wide enough to protect from the rain and I always wondered while standing underneath it why it did not have an adequate roof. Also the seating area was awkward, I remember there was something strange about the seating as there was never any seating available but it was there... It was colorful and might of had patterned mosaic decoration. I wish I remembered more of that bus stop beside it being on a cliff of a narrow road and every time I waited at the stop with my parents, it rained.