...I see London, I see France....
A small dog bouncing at the end of its leash is silly. A large dog, say for example- I’ll pick a breed at random- a Golden Retriever, doing the same thing, leaps over silly, dashes through ridiculous, dodges in and out of absurd and straight into surreal.
Fog carries the high pitched mechanical whine of a distant coal conveyor.
---We interrupt our regularly scheduled format of 'all art, all the time' to bring you a few moments of crass commercialism.---
No one who knows me is the least bit surprised to find me Googling La Perla after this past episode of CSI.
The garbage truck honks. From the bed, a bleary voice. "Can they get through?"
What?
"The garbage truck, it's, it's honking."
Oh. Sorry, my fault. I waved to the garbage men when I took out the trash.
Bleary eyes survey me.
"No wonder, in your stretch knit whatevers and THOSE BOOTS."
These boots?
(Aside: My sister: "I like your boots."
OF COURSE you like my boots. They're Chinese Laundry.
Sister: "OF COURSE they're Chinese Laundry.")
Shut up. They were on sale.
(Traditional children's taunt)
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