Sweet corn whiffs

Hypnotic waves circle their magic. A song from a movie.
A sketch for a movie poster. Inspired by Women's Era illustrations of their stories perhaps.
Stories with happy endings. Safe. Certainity for those who flipped to them.

Hope was crackling in fire, roasting slowly as the fires licked it with a devilish grin. Bhutta. Sweet corn juice erupting from soft flesh. Sprinkled with salt and lemon. Hope wasn't delicious without them. Let the corns crackle a little longer.

What use have you for happiness for balance and stability the proud mother had said to her, she remembered of the book that lay next to her. A beautiful poisonous flower.

We can't work without bleeding. For it wasn't art if our blood didn't warm it.
But who wants to be an artist?

I'm just waiting for the corn on the cob to be done.