I walked to work this morning, hoping the sunshine would bust me out of my winter funk. I'm in such a bad way that I couldn't even be bothered to go to New York the last two weekends. What is wrong with me?! Both were recreational trips designed as treats to myself (of no consequence when canceled)...but, still.
I found another brick signature on my path today. This one says B O. Vintage leopard coat and red "Kelly" bag I bought in Paris many years ago (that's in quotes because it's fake) to try and push away the blahs.
People collect marked bricks, but my neighborhood bricks seem to pre-date the molded signatures. I wonder if all I'm seeing is just a kid writing in the cement of the day with a stick? I wrote away to the International Brick Collectors Association to see what I might learn.