So! The news of me.
Let's start with yesterday. Such as when I got off the bus on Tuesday, only to see a glove.
A glove on the road.
A single glove, battered and beaten, left lying in the middle of the road as though trying to claw its way to the other side.
A single, green-and-blue tartan gardening glove, lying battered, beaten and disempersoned in a dizzying and dangerous no-glove's-land between the kerb and its promise of safe, serene strips of grass before the anonymous and uncaring footpaths.
A glove, left by no mortal agency that could be divined in passing by a decaffeinated traveller on the pedestrian crossing of that particular stretch of street.
I considered, for one particularly odd moment, that it might've been dropped by a plane. This theory was discarded since the glove looked to be snake-free.
Also, there's a safety rail with a sign that has funny. It has a picture of a railing, and a picture of two stick figures, and the sage advice to not sit or lean on the railing. And one stick figure is plunging to tragic splattery doom, while the other looks on, arms outstretched.
I think the stick figure was pushed.
I'd have a picture of this sign, but I seem to only think of it when it's late and therefore dark. My options, therefore, are to remember it while there's light, or take a salamander.
Today lacks news, apart from my class being cancelled this morning since the materials needed for working at fixing and covering books were unavailable, woe. I slept in for great justice.
NOTICE
Most of the icons attached to my posts and comments will cease to be the icons selected for them for, once this is posted, I'm going to be changing the keywords on most of them.
So, in a few minutes time, it'll be Marvins, Marvins everywhere. And not-confusing keywords for me.
Let's start with yesterday. Such as when I got off the bus on Tuesday, only to see a glove.
A glove on the road.
A single glove, battered and beaten, left lying in the middle of the road as though trying to claw its way to the other side.
A single, green-and-blue tartan gardening glove, lying battered, beaten and disempersoned in a dizzying and dangerous no-glove's-land between the kerb and its promise of safe, serene strips of grass before the anonymous and uncaring footpaths.
A glove, left by no mortal agency that could be divined in passing by a decaffeinated traveller on the pedestrian crossing of that particular stretch of street.
I considered, for one particularly odd moment, that it might've been dropped by a plane. This theory was discarded since the glove looked to be snake-free.
Also, there's a safety rail with a sign that has funny. It has a picture of a railing, and a picture of two stick figures, and the sage advice to not sit or lean on the railing. And one stick figure is plunging to tragic splattery doom, while the other looks on, arms outstretched.
I think the stick figure was pushed.
I'd have a picture of this sign, but I seem to only think of it when it's late and therefore dark. My options, therefore, are to remember it while there's light, or take a salamander.
Today lacks news, apart from my class being cancelled this morning since the materials needed for working at fixing and covering books were unavailable, woe. I slept in for great justice.
Most of the icons attached to my posts and comments will cease to be the icons selected for them for, once this is posted, I'm going to be changing the keywords on most of them.
So, in a few minutes time, it'll be Marvins, Marvins everywhere. And not-confusing keywords for me.
