Bunker.

What to you hear when you pound your head against a wall?

Bunk. Keep it up and you become a bunker.

Or paint a racing stripe on it. We don't care.

Windowfull.

What's up there? Besides stuff?

More stuff? Or less? Stories?

Two View.

Look once, look twice. No one cares.

You still don't see it.

Metered.

Brightly.

Leave your pen light at home then.

Sun Hole (With shrubberies.)

Kinda bright, considering how dark it is.

Interesting though. (Tingly too, especially in the middle.)

Blue Hole

Where I grew up, they called them flower petals.

Around here it's blue holes. I get it, sorta.

Buzzer

Painted on a wall.

Yet still happily flapping.

PopMe

It Came From The Garden One Morning.

Full of color and sun.