This is a picture, not taken, of a finger print on a glossy cell phone screen, normally considered an annoyance, but given a sinister appearance with two coincidentally located specs of red chilli pepper, serving as eyes for a ghostly specter, balefully staring into my soul…

This is a picture, not taken, of tiny, circular tracks crossing a snow covered sidewalk, breaking me out of a highly focused brisk walk, and causing me to wonder what possible animal could possibly create such a track, only to belatedly notice the tiny crystal in the middle of each footprint, forcing me to come to the conclusion that this animal was part of the kingdom of de-icing salt, and therefore not a threat to my survival…

This is a picture, not taken, of a stately motorcycle rider, wearing a bright yellow Cheerios jacket, his shadow projected solidly on the road towards the left side, except for his quickly flickering head as it matched the varying contours of the grass median…

This is a picture, not taken, of a ghostly Pac-Man hand puppet, materializing into existence from a deep sigh during a steamy shower, then slowly fading away, all while infinitesimally adding to the hard water stained patina of the now translucent Plexiglas stall…

This is a picture, not taken, of a gymnastic motorcycle rider, treating his ride like a balancing horse, legs performing a Russian Folk Dance, all while circling a Red Bull statute perched on top of a mini-Cooper driving down IH-35, during the afternoon rush-hour commute…

This is a picture, not taken, snapping me out of my monotonous morning commute along a vast concrete savannah, noticed by my primal brain’s serpentine early warning system, of some discarded cable rolling on the ground, whipped into action by winds and passing traffic…

This is a picture, not taken, of a table after cleaning, the ridged cotton rag leaving behind long, thinly spaced lines, much like a newly plowed field, however, the large cursive “l” sweep left behind by the waiter, created the perfect image of a giant’s fingerprint whorl…

This is a picture, not taken, of an Elvis impersonator swinging his arms around wildly, not to the beat of loud music, but to the beat of a corporate overlord, who takes advantage of people needing to sell gold for money in hard economic times…

This is a picture, not taken, of a tall Tervis tumbler with a Longhorn patch, sitting on a table bathed by a rectangle of harsh sunlight, the reflection creating a ring of light around the cup looking exactly like the rings of Saturn with a Bevo moon in orbit…

This is a picture, not taken, of the intricate smudges left on a plate from rolls of sushi, the thin strokes organizing themselves, in my mind’s eye, into the calligraphic art of Shodo-, drawn by the brush of chopsticks holding cooked rice kernels as they swish around the plate…