The Lady of the House
There I was lying face up on the sculpted carpet in the faux wood-paneled living room. The room flipped and the popcorn ceiling served as the floor. Light fixtures defied gravity by standing stiff on their chains. Reality, altered with a smear of fantasy, became my secret game. I’ve always planted one foot inside and one foot outside. Safe, but flirting, satisfying a need.
I’m Angela of The Painted House.
[photos: Matt Odom]