Well-Collected Junk
A right angle? In my house? Can’t count on it.
A right angle? In my house? Can’t count on it.
I kept practicing throughout the day, like “Hey Abby, big fan, could I grab a picture?”
In some shots, you can see things that I recognize from my childhood—a clock, a chair, some of the my brother’s first toys.
In ‘the battle of the sexes’ the question seems to be “Who is better: Men or Women?” The question I keep feeling like I need to scream is “Why do you keep wanting to find reasons to be better than someone else?!”
Making eye contact is unusual, speaking to a stranger even more so.
I may have just wasted my one good, cool nature fact, and this isn’t even a nature essay.
I had approximately six days to solve this moral dilemma.
After all, the “f” in “football” stands for nothing if not for “fashion.”
Wallow a little in self-pity. Start regretting all life decisions.
Last week I randomly found myself on a flight to Florence, Italy, with no other goal than to eat some local tiramisu.