Brush Strokes

Chapter 1: Crawling out of bed at 3 in the morning, I warmed up my motorcycle, as I looked at the stars in the sky. I wondered what the impending day had in store for me. Stop lights and few headlights were my only company as I drove my motorcycle in the dark, to a parking garage near the King Street train station. The luggage compartments attached to my BMW motorcycle were packed tight with my travel bags for a three-to-four day stay in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. I had a 10 a.m. appointment in Vancouver, so I had to catch the red-eye from Seattle at 5 a.m. Once I was on the train, I was wide-awake. The two hour trip gave me an opportunity to scan the sports page and stock market section of the paper, and to write some poetry on my laptop. After I arrived in Vancouver, I rode the street trolley down to the wharf. Daybreak, overcast skies and the fresh sea air pulled me back into a sleepy haze. I started to stroll along the wharf; the sky above me was changing fast. The sun, hazy through the thick clouds, gave off an eerie moon like appearance. The morning fog would burn off soon. The thought of the sun coming out later and warming my hide gave me a peaceful feeling. After my appointment today, there might be a chance to wander through the park with my camera. Maybe I could fi nd women to put in my camera’s eye, sun-backed silhouettes of beauty that could be used in my art. This is a snippet of Alvin Lloyd Alexander Horn's highly acclaimed novel "Brush Strokes."