A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 13, 2007 || 2:24 am


it sustains yet

Driving down the block, something caught my eye.

“We have to go there. We have to.”

I do this when I travel; while most people are lulled by the sound of the rubber against asphalt, I am watching, waiting. There is always something ready to find me if I’ll only be alert to it.

There was a large sign hanging in the window, “THE PRAYER GALLERY”; my insides pulled up the way they do when I have a hum of connection to and a sense of overall rightness about something.

I noted with disappointment that we had missed the doors being open by less than an hour. As a group of twentysomethings stood in the adjacent parking lot shouting and swearing, I stood quietly and read what someone had written on the plate glass window

for now we see dimly through a mirror

but soon we shall see


in a black, hastily-penned thick hand. So final, so assured, written in such a way as to convey a certain breathlessness. Excitement, maybe? Urgency mingled in?

I pulled out my camera and shot photos with a near-reverence. I wanted in there so badly. Something beckoned me inside, and I was indeed sad that I couldn’t get to whatever it was in those walls that was calling out for me. Turns out I was lucky to have even seen the place. It’s only supposed to have been open for the month of May; that’s okay, though. I’ve been thinking a whole lot lately on how to marry further my love of the arts and my passion for The Maker. This has stirred up a whole new perspective in me. Perhaps that’s all it was ever supposed to do for me, personally.

Hopefully, though, I’ll get to go back. Maybe, just maybe, this place will still be there and the doors will be unlocked.

2 worked it out »

  1. skillzy 5.14.2007

    So I spent Mother’s Day afternoon in a bar, watching baseball. And the bartender was this kid named Jack (yeah, I know). He had just started working there and was having a tough time even though there were maybe eight people in there at the busiest point. Jack told me how his girlfriend had kicked him out of their place the day before, keeping “their” stuff and leaving him without a place to live. I briefly considered letting him crash on my couch, but realized that probably wouldn’t work out. I mentioned some cheap places that I had found during my recent moving around spell. I told him to keep his chin up and he seemed to be handling things pretty well – definitely better than I would have.

    Anyway, so I put my tab on my debit card and throw all the cash in my pocket on the bar (not even 20 bucks, I’m afraid) and headed for the door. Jack hollered at me right before I got out, and I turned around. He looked at me like he was gonna say something, then he just said “thanks”. And I saw hope in his eyes, just as clear as you can see it in that rusty metal on that wall.

  2. Jettomatika 5.14.2007

    I firmly believe that it’s our job to bring hope to people in what is otherwise an asshole world.

    Hope-bringers are some of my favorite people. But you know that.


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