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in a web of glass, pinned to the edges of vision

I blame redshrike.

I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

mucha mosaic

I blame redshrike.

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mucha mosaic
says the redshrike, 'my lower back hurts sort of like I've been working out or something.'
says me 'same here. Did you guys get a new bed? or have we both been sleep hulaing?'
'Nope,' says she. 'If you've been sleephulaing, you're doing it by yourself.'
Now, for those who don't know, redshrike and I both live about 3-4 blocks from a park in the city we reside in: it's almost equidistant from our homes, really. So this strange image crosses my mind, as I'm doing other things, of people getting up in the middle of the night, walking to this park in their pyjamas and naught else (slippers? nay. bathrobe? au contraire), and standing in rows in front of the little curve of laurels on the north side of the park, putting hula hoops around their waist and hulaing en masse, eyes shut, snoring lightly.
And I'm imagining a friend of hers and mine walking past on Fulton and looking up and going 'aw shit, you guys again???'

I don't know why this is amusing the hell out of me, but it really does.
  • oh dear. I was trying to blame those lower back twinges on the sit-ups I was very intermittently doing.

    Where the devil are we getting the hula hoops?

    I may have to start wearing nightclothes.
  • Hahaha!

    Thats the park with the (tm) Playground Which Does Not Exist (tm). I used to live in that area as well, and often had suspicions about the goings on over there at night.
  • Bwahaha! That's a wonderful image, and straight out of the Sandman comics somehow.
  • *falls over, laughing*

    ...well, at least you've stopped jumping rope, and you can always use the line that your hips are very well-exercised as a pickup line. *nods sagely; wanders off into a wall*
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