Friday was a dex night and I was bored, so I got in my car and drove around looking for pictures to take. Sometime in the wee hours of Saturday morning, while I was drifting east on Whittier Blvd., I saw this shop. Or, not a shop, really, just a gate. A beat up, worn out gate.
I don’t know what it is. I don’t want to know. What I do know is that it perfectly captures my internal monologue most of the time these days: a beat up, worn out gallery of Tourette’s. Maybe yours too?
