Something happened to my cell phone after we looking at the classic cars and hot rods yesterday. Images like the one above filled my Camera Roll, over two dozen of them. Most are some similar shade of pink, the last few are black.
A handful are videos instead of photos, and the soundtrack is nothing but a rhythmic rustling which I assume to be an artifact of me walking.
I have no idea what was triggering these photos. The phone was in my pocket, and the only thing different from the other 24 hours, 365 days a year is that I had some coins in my pocket as well from a purcahse at the farmers market. Was a coin lodged against a button in such a way to keep pressing it and taking pictures of the bright sunlight filtered through the denim of my jeans? Whatever.
Perhaps I was temporarily attacked and swallowed whole by a ginormous dropbear and the pink color comes from its skin and tissue and blood as it was trying to swallow and digest me? I’m sure that would have been such a traumatic experience that I would have wiped it from my memory, leaving nothing but the photos behind as evidence that it ever happened.
I hate it when that happens!
























