Snow almost always seems to have battle freckles when I see him. I don't know if he's cat constable or kitty crime lord, but I'm pretty sure he's in charge of the street. "Those aren't cross eyes," says Snow. "They're crosshairs."
I've been taking lots of pictures since I got my new battery, nearly all bad pictures. I usually do take a lot and then only post the ones I like and there were only a few this time. This one I took on Monday, I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was a spider or a seed pod;
I didn't realise it was a spider until a moment ago. I don't think I've seen this kind around before.
Twitter Sonnet #298
Porous red tendrils weakly wave hello.
Tire tracks raise questions in the produce.
Blood rain can make a vampire mellow.
Italian necklines can always reduce.
C shaped jawbreakers breed uncertainty.
Hastily mentioned car accidents fade.
Airborne veins shimmer past security.
Soft tomatoes sickly spoiled a raid.
Lawrence would like Tatooine 'cause it's clean.
Angry tennis players now serve the night.
Dark license plates betray criminal mien.
Freckles are scars from the conception fight.
A thousand dwarves are remembered per dot.
Copper pins clatter in the coffee pot.
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