I knew it was going to be a struggle the moment I walked up. I only wanted to help the struggling painter, but he would never listen. I wanted to help get his work into a gallery, into a fair, or just somewhere but the sidewalk where his talent would be noticed for what it was worth. But each time I was met with the same answer: he was better off on his own than with a boss. One day I hope I can talk more sense into my brother. More sense to know not everyone is our father.
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Photo prompt courtesy of Brenda Cox.