junecleavage

That does it. I am writing a coffee table book that just has photos of SEPTA riders. I could write TEN of them. The blank stare and crazed half done hair of the gonna miss the bus commuter. The oversized bellies pressed against the nostrils of the lucky seated passenger who tries to politely turn their head away from the mass that is nearly smothering them. The oblivious but well coiffed mid twenties tarts with their bubble gum pink ipods and super stickified glossed lips pursed in an ever so poised annoyance who refuse to acknowledge the elderly or disabled for whom the seat they are occupying is designed for. The sweet little old school Italian women from my neighborhood whose breasts hang to their midrift and whose smiles can almost erase the stench of the guy next to me who clearly had cigars and wawa coffee prior to breathing heavily into my ear while making slingblade noises.
You just wait.
I have a never ending wealth of subject material here folks.