And 100s fuxing fuxing don’t, alas.
Intriguing proposal, but will probably stick with the road for now.
Abandoned on the doorstep of the Newtown police station, the poor little chap.
Tim enthusiasm: my secret shame.
Cheers, will get right on that.
A few months ago, walking down one of those unmerciful steep Wellingtonian streets–which I’ve eventually learned to enjoy–I found this graffiti on a garage door.
Its design, the way it matched the colours of the building and its off-centre layout made me think it was made on purpose by the people living there. I indulged myself imagining they might be some sort of creatives and let my thoughts flow even further by thinking how cool it was that there were people out there feeling like personalising their own living spaces in such an expressive way.
I soon realised that I let my thoughts go too far. The garage door was repainted in plain blue again.
Still, being so used to dreaming up stories in my head, I couldn’t resist to think up an alternative ending to this anecdote. I imagined the people living there writing and sticking the above note on their garage door.
I giggled at the idea of it.
Best product name.