I walked through a park, bursts of hand-clapping kept exploding behind me. I finally identified a Tourette-ey man bobbing around in a suit, face clenched in concentration, his clapping was interspersed with lamp-post-tapping and tree-kissing.
I made straight for the big fig tree, clipped off a few of it's new sappy leaves and stuffed them down the front of my vest so that the figgy scent could waft around me for the rest of the day.
Second Thoughts
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On the Bench his lips would often be seen to move, but no sound proceeding
from them would be heard by the Bar. The associate sitting beneath him
could tel...
3 hours ago
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