I'm walking down the street reading a book about delight. While aiming at my feet, my eyes detect a creepy sight. I've passed a thousand times before but never once could see the frosted steps beneath this door are looking back at me.
37
36
Little happy face is made of scraps from off my plate. Mini grin was hiding in the bits I nearly ate. Everything's in place if you just shift your mental state. A tiny briny beaming sunny smile incarnate.
35
It is funny that most ficus make a fig you should not eat, like a photo of an ice cube in the searing summer heat. It reminds you of the nice fruit filled with gobs of tiny seeds, but most fruiting feral ficus lack the sugar to be sweet. So if you pass a planter when you're walking down the street, and you think, "If that were edible, it truly would be neat," best evaluate assumptions about visual deceit; almost certainly its species isn't gonna be a treat.
34
This flower has small flowers. Apparently that's a thing? The center cluster makes the disc with rays encircling. The head is a capitulum, a compositional set of many tiny blooms in one, each piece called a floret. They present as one entity seen better from afar. Members of Asteraceae, a family of stars.
33
Do you ever look at a sign on a pole and think, "Can anyone do that? Can I grant myself the rulemaker's role and alter the content or format?" Because, sometimes, the signs, you see, are doctored, and it's not clear whether the change was made officially or by a neighbor feeling clever.
Subscribe via Atom