Richmond and DC in Six Words

I love six-word stories. It’s like Hemingway and Twitter had a baby (actually that sounds horrible. Six-word story on what that would look like: i’m drunk and hate myself #notallmen), and distills all of the unnecessary adjectives, plot points, and self-reflection into an almost headline-like essence of a story. In order to not bore you with paragraph after paragraph about our recent weekend in Richmond, Virginia, and Washington, D.C., I’ve paired each photo below with a six-word story (starting on the left), creating what I think is a pretty accurate picture of our trip.

finally not confederates, probably still racists
banjo and violin duel, brothers don’t
colonial inn bright spot, rest empty

ritz stolen, pimento and pickles remain
monochromatic, gray, cold – much like government
chicken meets waffles, happily ever after

rainbow of unaffordability, dreams, southeast DC
brave early blossoms: “we’re fucking cold”
chai and lover reunited; nothing’s changed

 

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