Detritus

The walk from my place-of-sleeping to my place-of-working takes about 10 minutes. Every day this week, among the rotting leaves and eternal packaging I have found something lost, not discarded nor forgotten. Gloves, torches, spectacles.

This morning was no different. The words on this tote, carefully appropriated though unwittingly deposited, are either snide, post-modern irony or witty, consumerist cynicism. I can't tell the difference.