I want to clench my fists and yell profanities at the sky. Uncontrollably. F*ck it very much for drowning me in a sea of grey, drained of color, contrast and life. Days start on dim, and stays there until around three in the afternoon, at which point it fades to black. It’s the dungeon again, of course. I still haven’t found a way to get through it in one piece. Although little, big things like a magic crystal ball lens, helps.
Resting Irma hen neon sign.
And Queen Louises Bridge bike lane.
Tree bombing by the lakes.
Someone is trying to make a point, that we need more trees. This one won't survive, right there. Hopefully they will move it later, it would be a pity if it died before it had a chance to grow. Not too many swans left either, in this lake. Probably due to heavy human spam.
A few ballsy swans stick around, and one of them likes to keep an eye on me. ♥
Nothing much, my birdy friend. Just trying to stay afloat, you know how it is.