Maybe I can be one of those photographers who take photos of old jazz clubs? I’ll dress like a hipster, smoke rolled-up cigarettes, and start calling people cat. My foot will be tapping. My fingers will be snapping. And my best photos will hang in the back of smokey, after-hours clubs where patrons will be too sauced to even notice. Not that I’ll care. I will be an artiste!
nothing says uptown New Orleans like a clawfoot tub planter with only two feet. . .
don’t feed the jester. . .
Lovely fake rocks in the amazon exhibit of the Audubon Aquarium of the Americas. Pro tip: if you are creating a jungle, have a good supply of CAUTION WET FLOOR signs.