You know a neighborhood café's become too trendy when you can't have a quiet cuppa joe 'cause of the photoshoots.
This morning: me half-awake, sipping espresso, minding my own business. Slowly returning to consciousness after a night of strange dreams. (The last of them: me standing in at a Springsteen concert when Himself got held up en route. Huh?) Next thing I know a photographer's assistant is laying cables around me and -- I am not exaggerating here -- a photographer's butt is pressed up against my ear.
And a very nice butt it was. Just not a kind of wake-up call I'm used to. (Bottom right: my chair. Slightly above: unexpectedly friendly booty.)
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Self-portrait, local florist shop with serious delusions of grandeur:
Madrid, te quiero.
rws 8:42 AM [+]
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