Signal by Coffee Cup
I think there might be spies in my building.
Spies who communicate with other spies through the placement of coffee cups left on security checkpoints.
I think there might be spies in my building.
Spies who communicate with other spies through the placement of coffee cups left on security checkpoints.
One minute, you’re walking along making to do lists in your head and planing out the rest of your day, then suddenly you’re falling down a drain and sprawling forward, unable to even get your hands up in time before your head kisses the concrete. That was my Friday.
It was a chilly 12 degrees Celsius (53F) and the sun had not yet reached us on the south-western face of the mountain. We each put in our ear buds, and set off with little ceremony or fanfare.
I am starting to view my life less as a series of planned adventures and more as a path, a journey with twists and turns and unexpected hiccups and fortuitous events. And even though I haven’t changed on the outside, I’ve done a hell of a lot of growing on the inside.
I was wandering around the Inner Sunset last June, when I stumbled upon this artwork. It was prominently displayed in the window of a small business just off Judah and framed by heavy, deep blue curtains. And the visual has stayed with me since.
I’m not usually one for gifs, but this is how I feel right now, after submitting my final paper this afternoon: just like Tracy Flick in Election. Well, kinda.