Art, Humor, photography, Photoshop, Poetry

217 Alamo Plaza


Shuttered windows and covered doors, security camera on the wall

Tourists in plaid shorts, t-shirts, sandals, knee-high black socks

In this neighborhood?

What clandestine trade goes on in there?

Undercover assets, without credentials or records. Black ops?

International deals?

Spooky! And all written in a single photograph


One thought on “217 Alamo Plaza

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