Hello, hello! The frog is back. I missed you all. Unlike some of my E-friends (how do you do it?) I just can’t combine traveling and posting. I need to find a better system. Meantime, here is the 20th edition of Pot-pourri. The above? Chinatown, San Francisco, last July. Om mani padme and all that.
“What is taking her so long?” Tlalpan, Mexico city, near the new “digs”.
Where? Where? London, last year.
Offcors? Of course! Casual wear apparel brand. Bogotá, Colombia. c.2014.
Dainty colonial church, Mexico city. 2016. (Oh? Nobody cares about the dates, right?)
The massacre of the Innocents. Church floor, Sienna. Mid 1400’s.
At the corner of Gutenberg and Shakespeare. Mexico city. In that area (Polanco-Anzures), all streets bear the names of famous writers, philosophers, scientists. In some poetic disarray, Tennyson is two blocks away from Musset, Edgar Allan Poe runs parallel to Calderón de la Barca (Toda la vida es sueño…) Dickens crosses Molière. George Bernard Shaw lies between the Cuban embassy and Socrates Street. If poetry is the hapchance meeting of two words that had never crossed path before, those are poetic streets indeed.
The Brandenburg Gate. A place charged with History, cliché as it may sound. The French Embassy is to the right. If you turn around you can walk on Unter den linden, another poetic street name… Under the linden trees. Sous les tilleuls. Berlin is a strange city. Now peaceful after so much war.
The streets of San Francisco. (And the beat goes on…)
Breathe normally oh my animal lover friends. The crocodile is later released unharmed into the waters of the Amazon. This is a somewhat silly tourist trap, small boats running on the river at night, looking for small Jacarés, crocodiles. They lie in the shallow waters by the banks. They are spotted by their shiny eyes in the night. The boat “skipper” approaches slowly and grabs the crocodile with both hands, one on the body, one on the snout, for the tourists to hold. As you can see from the band aid on the man’s right hand, crocs sometimes get a good bite. 🙂
In Ayah’s arms, or shoulders rather. Karachi, Pakistan, 1954. Above and below.
Lovely to fly with you on Equinoxio again. A lovely week-end to all.