so yesterday, we are riding, via taxi, back from the doctor who told me my nerve pain was from probably fixable without an invasion into my arm. cool. as we are lalalaing along, i see a Flaming flower pot on the balcony across the street. you know, those Paris balconies with pretty geraniums in bright plastic rectangular window boxes. this one was dripping flames, hot pink, plastic flames dripping onto the awning below. although the event was astounding, the scale was fairly small. the dusty french window opened inward and a man, cigarette in mouth, casually poured water on the flaming flower box. me, im yelling Fire! Fume! uh, i think thats right, pointing and stupidly trying to jump out of the taxi, instinctively running toward, not away from, the Danger. Luckily, the taxi driver was smart enough to lock the doors, so, to him i was probably just wildly flailing and maybe looking for a smoke. says Cuckoo Bizarre
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 16:16:41 +0000
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