I found this tie fabric at an Asian market a few towns away. I loved it, but it was $20, so I decided to settle for a picture. But I still want it.
Awesome, right? I'm not even sure what I'd do with it, but I'm sure I'd come up with something.
Next, here's a piece of graffiti I found on a table at a local university:
(In case you can't read it, it says, "f--k physics.") To me, there's something kind of darling about it. The neat, measured writing. The undergraduate angst trapped in the angles of the letters. I just wanted to give this person a big hug and tell him or her that it would all be okay. That this midterm, too, shall pass. That Friday nights in college are better spent almost anywhere but the library (a lesson that I, myself, learned disappointingly late).
Next, a graffiti FAIL on a shed in a small town where I went hiking the other day:
This is even harder to read. The top word says "hell," although the "h" is wearing away. And the bottom word says, simply, "PENUS."
I imagine some kid in this town sneaking out with a can of spray paint from his parents' garage or a pastel palmed from his middle school art class, and writing the WORST WORDS HE COULD THINK OF. And spelling one of them incorrectly.
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