Baby Couscous

Baby Couscous

Yu stood dumbfounded. It was her face in the window, and not just reflected upon it. But everything about it was… not her. It wasn’t an artist’s interpretation of her or a spin on her look, but a blatant co-opting of her likeness and yet utter failure to do so.

She put her hand to the glass to get a better view, sure she wasn’t seeing what was decorating the mannequins. And yet it was. It was emblazoned upon t-shirts bearing the Baby Couscous logo. Yu thought back to any recent gigs she’d had and couldn’t remember any where she’d agreed to such work. 

Her career as such as that of any freelancer - it ranged from the trivial tasks for the well off who liked to flex their wealth by hiring a person over a drone, to the artist and adventurous which weren’t always strictly above board. Not that there was a board to account to. The latter were always with friends anyways. And nothing came to mind when Yu tried to figure out who would have done such a thing.

Yu’s fingers left streaks on the window as she scratched at it. Her impotent rage, sending her away from the boutique. She didn’t want to dignify the shop with her presence. She stomped out into the rain, intent and knowing her purpose. Find whomever had taken her likeness and kick them square in the balls. But to do that, she needed a name. When you need a name, there was only one place to go - Josie’s.


Today’s art is courtesy of Park JunKyu from Seoul, South Korea.

An Act of Violence

An Act of Violence

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What We Take With