The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

November 4: Cairn Collection

The ragged book held haunting images. A bicycle painted white in the middle of an empty intersection. Faded flowers in the shape of a cross, encircled by empty candle jars. A black and white of a dozen rocks, stacked along a lonely stretch of back road. I looked at the equally ragged man sitting next to me on the train. "Did you take all these?" I asked.He nodded. "Somebody has to remember."

I once had a plan to take photos of roadside memorials. Where we lived back east, they would show up often -- flowers, balloons, signs, or other markers indicating where a loved one had died in a traffic accident. The use of the white-painted bicycles to mark places where bike riders had been killed reminded me of those other memorials.I was inspired by one memorial in particular that haunted me: located on a back road in a small town, I drove by it every so often and was too scared to stop for a closer look. It sat far off the shoulder and up on a berm. It was faded and I often wondered how long ago the accident had happened. A few days ago, I noticed a small pile of rocks along the side of a road I travel fairly frequently. It inspired these 76 words that I offer for today's #NanoPoblano. See you tomorrow ...

November 5: Extroverted Writing

November 3: The Window