I prefer civilisation to nature, hence the true focus of the photo is the car in the background. Now go on, throw stones at me.
I attract street sweepers and building cleaners. I wonder if it’s because I’m clean and neat or because I’m dirty and disordered. (My mirror says it’s the former. Hopefully.) I love that they love me but they scare me. Consider this.
The other day I was literally crawling in the street, busied with taking macro photos of cobblestones and minding my own business. Suddenly a voice behind my back said: “Whatyaupta?” I got a fright and dropped my camera on the cobble. “I’ll see when I see it,” I said tentatively in a tiny shivering voice. It was just a street sweeper. He smiled at me and said: “Ughuh.” (I think he meant “I see.”) His two front teeth were missing.
The next day I walked in a lift in a public building. There was someone inside already but all I saw was a vague silhouette because I don’t stare at people. The door shut. Suddenly my hand was firmly grabbed and there was a loud scream: “Aaww, what a cute colour!” I would have collapsed but I couldn’t because I was held. It was just a cleaning woman who really liked my nails. Still, I could hardly stir when she took the lift to the cellar, where she exited.
Something is fundamentally wrong. Is it me or is it the cleaning people? What’s your experience?
My most horrible nightmare is obligatory physical education. I was living it and I emerged scathed for a lifetime.
In response to the WordPress Daily Prompt: Sweet Dreams.
I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.
Your last warning.
Get in the line
and no one gets cu-
Yesterday hubby and me went for a walk. This is unique in itself because it only happens once in four years or so. Like the Olympics.
When a group of random teenagers passing by respectfully wished us a good day, hubby sadly observed that we must have grown old. I was delighted, though, that kids finally stopped yelling obscenities at me and started to treat me as the little old lady that I am to them.
Here’s to teenagers, to whom you’re either dead or a zombie when you’re over thirty.
In response to FireBonnet’s Random Moments of Delight challenge #8.
The same spot, different seasons.
In response to the WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Threes.