Daisy Chains, 1967.
Two Hippies, 1967.
I don't know what it is with me and meeting people at bakeries lately. This morning -- I made the acquaintance of the sweetest 1.5 year old little boy with chestnut colored hair and hazel eyes. He had come in with his father, and the Italian woman behind the counter insisted on giving him one of those small, rainbow sprinkle-covered generic bakery cookies (the ones that explode into a mess of crumbs the second you bite into them). I remember that when I was small, everything in the world seemed so exaggerated and monumental. You could tell that his little heart was filled with contentment -- and he clasped and unclasped his free fist in a small wave to me while he was hiding between his father's legs.
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