"Though we know her a lifetime, she must always hold an alien air, as if something too vast to have shape were lurking in the universe to which she is a door." -- from The Night Ocean, R.H. Barlow & H.P. Lovecraft. The prose poem took place by a different ocean, but the same principle applies.
The revered Mo's Restaurant, in Newport. I entered their establishment today, for the first time in a long spell. No more photo of Robert F. Kennedy's visit on the wall.
Outside a bar
Looks as if "Pops" Flea Market has lost some of its luster. Two raccoons, awake in the daytime on the side of the place, glared at me. I tried to get a photo, but they tore off into a trench by the building, then stopped, still standing as if they might charge me.
Photos by JF, 19 July, 2015.
