Anna Karina throws her bag on the ground and falls to her knees, sraping them, sobbing.
My wife, goblinchild, got a new hairstyle today that is incredible on her. She gets colored tomorrow. This salon is very excellent and we have been waiting to work exclusively with one so that we have certain understandings when a shoot may demand something fast. I have to thank a certain someone for going with Sarah in the consultation process. Thank you.
They did ask her to do a show for them but she will be on her way to New York from Boston on that day for another shoot, so...It was a paying job, but it was a benefit so I don't think we would be able to feel okay about taking the payment. She will work with them again.
Sarah looks like a very young Anna Karina right now. Actually, even better.
Two days ago I was walking in the park because it was nice; and humans living in capitalist countries do these kind of things, yes? Two people were walking in front of me. Sarah was with me, as well. The one on the left drops a plastic/foil chip bag as if these chip bags naturally shed from his body as he moves in his environment at the threshold of a season. Surely this person does not molt as such. He did not use any force to shove this bag to the, yes, fairly sullied ground. And people, remember, my very young wife is with me and seeing all this. She is quite an impressionable young thing; we do not want her to think that this apathetic occurrence is well-to-do. My sweetest Sarah looks to me as soon as the innocent piece of trash hits concrete, and she puts her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp, huge eyed and bones stretched on tip toes to catch a glimpse from directly above the silvery inside of the bag. So I approve of her initial reaction but my own reaction is quite crucial at this moment.
I grasp the girl-Sarah's hand, as we were before this deviation but with a bit more connotation of something that holding hands already implies, and glide-walk to the stupid looking garbage and scoop it up severely smooth, without a hesitating step. I crumple it so as to make the commonly known empty chip bag noise. The left-side-bag-shedder glanced a glance with unease over his dumb back, and just then, in that fast peek he intended to give yet just to show that he knew what was going on and did not care, I made him look longer when I spun around doing an intimidating pirouette and sent the happy bag into where he was destined to go - the hardest, most metalest dumpster in the park.
In that moment, when the polluter saw me spin like that and throw that bag away, he was like, "shit...that motherfucka' is ill...pirouettin' like that and shit...next time I'm gonna' throw away some shit and be the cool motherfucka'!"
They did ask her to do a show for them but she will be on her way to New York from Boston on that day for another shoot, so...It was a paying job, but it was a benefit so I don't think we would be able to feel okay about taking the payment. She will work with them again.
Sarah looks like a very young Anna Karina right now. Actually, even better.
Two days ago I was walking in the park because it was nice; and humans living in capitalist countries do these kind of things, yes? Two people were walking in front of me. Sarah was with me, as well. The one on the left drops a plastic/foil chip bag as if these chip bags naturally shed from his body as he moves in his environment at the threshold of a season. Surely this person does not molt as such. He did not use any force to shove this bag to the, yes, fairly sullied ground. And people, remember, my very young wife is with me and seeing all this. She is quite an impressionable young thing; we do not want her to think that this apathetic occurrence is well-to-do. My sweetest Sarah looks to me as soon as the innocent piece of trash hits concrete, and she puts her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp, huge eyed and bones stretched on tip toes to catch a glimpse from directly above the silvery inside of the bag. So I approve of her initial reaction but my own reaction is quite crucial at this moment.
I grasp the girl-Sarah's hand, as we were before this deviation but with a bit more connotation of something that holding hands already implies, and glide-walk to the stupid looking garbage and scoop it up severely smooth, without a hesitating step. I crumple it so as to make the commonly known empty chip bag noise. The left-side-bag-shedder glanced a glance with unease over his dumb back, and just then, in that fast peek he intended to give yet just to show that he knew what was going on and did not care, I made him look longer when I spun around doing an intimidating pirouette and sent the happy bag into where he was destined to go - the hardest, most metalest dumpster in the park.
In that moment, when the polluter saw me spin like that and throw that bag away, he was like, "shit...that motherfucka' is ill...pirouettin' like that and shit...next time I'm gonna' throw away some shit and be the cool motherfucka'!"