“Pinwheels” by Richard F. Yates

Dreamed, in the early morning hours, of shapes moving in and out of the clouds, and lights pinwheeling through the sky, and explosions, and metallic bipedal soldiers with guns chasing humans… And as my eyes flicked open, minutes before the alarm went off, a streetsweeper growled grumpily past the house, just to give the dream a touch of verisimilitude.

—Richard F. Yates

About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
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