the hobbled among us

The two photographs featured in this entry are not of lost objects per se, but rather of crippled ones. The first was taken by Peter, who works where I work. Peter is a merry fellow who graciously accepts the music I foist upon him, gives me chocolate from time to time, and is wholly responsible for the presence of Pink Floyd, T. Rex, and Frank Zappa on my work computer. The progress of the "Peter shrine" on and around my desk has sort of halted mid-construction, but is alarming enough even in its current unfinished state. If you ever meet Peter on the street -- well, you should be so lucky as to meet Peter on the street.

He took this in the environs of Union Station:

The hydrant's useless arms and faceless humiliation I find particularly lamentable.

This next one is of a bicycle hitched to a post on Delaware Street, rendered stationary by vicious tire thieves or nefarious tire bandits -- it's anyone's guess.

Also, last night I watched the first bit of Jean Renoir's Boudu Saved From Drowning (stopped it about a half-hour in when M. Svadjian, who had seen it already, couldn't keep his eyes open any longer). This morning, as if reminding me to finish watching it, I saw a man who looked exactly like Boudu, just down my street! What a morning that was!