RAINBOW DANCE

A sunny afternoon at home.

EVERYDAY

Everyday I bike down a street to get home where there's an invisible pothole, camouflaged by a big white stripe of paint. It's a real eye-fuck. I'm hip to this trick nowadays, so I swerve around it and avoid that sense of alarm as my tire falls into the depths. Yesterday evening on my way home it was still there. Last night when I biked home it was smoothed over by fresh tar. I thought that the only way this could be possible is a renegade ashphaultist, do-gooding citizen filled in the danger-hole at midnight. Life has a funny way of surprising you and pretending to be magic.