If I was eight years old, I could tell you what this cloud is called along with all the others. Stratus, maybe.
Sadly, I have forgotten much more than this. Why I still look at pretty women, if gas from flatulation can explode. In which case, I'd better stay away from an open flame for the rest of my life.
Every Thursday evening there is an organic market in the tiny historical center tiny South Pasadena which was the closest place that non millionaire could live. Pasadena was the winter home of many millionaires and they didn't want annoying poor people in their city after dark. South Pasadena's claim to fame is that the train station there was also a brothel. A thought that has not been passed down though history. (pity)
The organic market lasts until night fall. The booths are manned until the sky is completely dark. Old hippies abound as well as ancient counter culture types Heads are mostly bald, but what left is still long with a bandana around it. Tied T-shirt still abound. What were called "Hippy Chicks." Hot chicks of the sixties have gone from a thirty eight D in a tight braless sleeveless T-shirt to a fifty six long. Old establishment guys still lust in their hearts for free love and massive doses of Viagra.
This is a shot of the street as the venders put away they put away their celery root, long leaf lettuce an heirloom tomatoes. The old hippies are going down the street to modest anti establishment rally. After that, several people will take the old police car the city gave them. ( A brief truce with the "man".)and start their all vigil for the neighborhood watch. Known to the younger generation as the "Prune juice patrol.
|Camera:||Nikon Coolpix S600 Check out Nikon Nation!|
|Recording media:||JPEG (digital)|
|Date Taken:||23 Jan 2014 - 5:39 AM|
|Lens Max Aperture:||f/2.7|
|Exposure Mode:||Program AE|
|Flash:||Off, Did not fire|