So there I was, taking pictures of curly flower petal squash things, and all of a sudden, I thought to myself, "Damn! Am I bored or what?" I know I shall regret saying that to myself when December rolls around and there is nary a petal in sight, but all the same, I found myself quite tired of pretty things.
So instead of taking more flower photos, I went to go play with a couple of monkeys.
Then I walked. Some locals call it the "Jail Trail" because 1.) it happens to pass right by said institution, and 2.) it's catchier than the official name. At first, I was rather disappointed. There wasn't much to look at save for some graffiti far, far up on the bluffs that remains where it is because the city government does not pay anyone near enough to remove it. There was no shade in the beginning of the journey, either!
Then a bicyclist, passing by me at fair speed, looked at me and shouted, "It's the escapee from the Butterfly Forest!" I wasn't sure which of the two of us he was referring to, or if there was an actual butterfly nearby that I hadn't seen, but despite my confusion, things mysteriously improved after that encounter. The walls became taller, and beneath the bridges, arteests of various caliber painted again, and again, and again. Though brush obscured many things, I felt I finally had my reward for enduring the humidity.
Then all the graffiti stopped, painted over in gray. I passed a bit of construction, where it looked as though they intended the trail to someday offer the option of crossing the river.
And just like that, the doldrums ended once more.
On my way home, I met some fine turkeys. Also, this message is brought to you by pants, ladies and gentlemen. Plain, simple, but quality pants.