We check into the Trop, where my grandfather and his wife are also staying. My father calls my grandfather and we make plans to meet for dinner at 5 at one of the restaurants. When he gets off the … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged atlantic city, Brooklyn, drinking, family, father, gambling, hotel, John Biscello, son, story
The Bardo Hotel, respite for amorphic guests– Where change becomes you.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, bardo, doors, dorothea tanning, dreams, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, flowers, girls, haiku, hotel, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry, sunflower, Surrealism