The tiny little tree with a tiny little stabilizing brace on it.
The antique and junk metal store.
The 19th-century-lookin-ass wooden hut on its campus.
The lawn full of rusting industrial equipment.
The leather saddle, mossy from rain.
The RVs towing SUVs. Feeling like it’s both cute and excessive to do that.
Leaving the house in ripped jeans (from natural causes), having just showered, thinking it’s generally a good bet to look disheveled but smell nice, or at least a better bet than the opposite.
Playing at the Empty Bottle with Hue.
The friendly and competent soundperson, Shay/Shae. Soundpeople are so often jaded or bad (or both), it’s really nice when they’re nice.
Heading to a seemingly usual, bemuraled corner store for a snack, finding a portal into a Ukrainian super market instead, complete with produce and a seafood deli. Buying imported, peanut-flavored Cheetos called Flips, a sesame sugar cracker, and an apple.
The band that left three nearly untouched salads in the green room.