I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THAT WE KNOW THAT YOU ... WHERE WAS I?
I know that you know that we know that you, I … where was I?
There I was. Reflected in the stringly strung star strand at Deluxe Junk. Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood. A thirty-four year old antiques store set to close. The culprit, an unjust eviction notice.
And this is necessary because …
… things are just not fair sometimes. Glad to have made a last visit to this icon, at least. People were emotional in their reminiscing. Took a friend along whose parents are BIG antiquers. Spent some time chatting with them about their finds when they were out West for a visit recently, in fact.
What would it take?
More than a bouquet of old pencils. We each fell for a frivolous item that we didn’t end up leaving with. I didn’t need that mannequin head, anyway.
De Junk in the Trunk.
This car sits (sat) just outside Deluxe Junk. My friend says she can see me in a vehicle such as this. She knows what my ears like to hear.
“Hey, I’m not a nut, I’m a cashew.”
My dad’s latest claim. I often say, “Dad, you nutcake.” It’s replaced “squeirdo.”
This reminds me of my VW Beetles, years ago, before having sanded them down. Cancerous rust.