Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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Inside: Photos of eyeballs, bees, eyeballs, blue hands, and eyeballs. Also inside: Thoughts I want you to read and to live by and, when especially inspired, to set to opera. Also inside: my fight against vegetable tyranny. Just a little something I do so you don’t have to. You're welcome. Come on in and get your jibber jabber on!
7 comments:
All very pretty pictures.
...of the Yeti tracks.
If that ain't a Yeti, I'll eat my hat.
And to collect on that, I'll need a photo of the trackster not being a Yeti.
It a Yeti.
A.
It ain't no Yeti.
But Yetis all round, tracking
and drinking ice. So,
Maybe a Yeti.
Most definitively positively without doubty it a damn Yeti.
Who else would be out there in that cold and snow?
MB, that's who.
Yet maybe MB Yeti.
The visual layers are nice. So much to look at, though the real star of the show is all the tree reflections waiting to be noticed.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
He have a Yeti in his woods, though.
Peekin in and drinkin snow.
Shooooot. It a Yeti, yo.
Robert Frost's famous poem hijacked by an urban hip-hop sherpa.
Sherp-hop.
It actually is a squirrel's tracks. But I suppose it could have been a Yeti that strapped on squirrel feet to throw me off track.
What is it you see,
In such scenes, with such beauty?
Magic? Or squirrels?
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