giftwrecked

Gabe was a good sculptor, an excellent sense for form in space. When he was very young, maybe about the time of the shity pictury, he would come into her studio, appropriate a lump of her raw clay and sit in the backyard making eskimos, eagles, and sport cars. He loved as much to quickly wear down a piece of sandstone into some fluid abstract form, usually with some negative space in it.

But the one Heta always liked best was the six-foot leaning tower of soldered-together bicycle parts, all salvaged from wrecks he'd had. In ninth grade he won Honorable Mention in a regional art contest with this piece. He gave it to her for Christmas that year.