Folks, I've got quite a post lined up for you today. It's a picture cavalcade of Dante's best friend and confidante. We call it kluden, the rag. It's been around the world twice (before my anti-flying stance), lost innumerous times, found luckily just as many times, been washed a few dozen times and contains more mana than the statues on Easter Island. It has a life of its own.
A retrospective look - the rag as of the day before yesterday.
When it split in two (the one half is in a safe deposit box for emergencies only).
Starting to fray.
In the bike.
In Hong Kong.
On Lamma Island.
On the boat to Macau.
California. When it was still (partially) mine.
The River Walk in San Antonio.
Meeting the natives at Guadalupe River Ranch.
Flying to Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Milwauk-wauk-wauk-wauk
On the train.
How it all began. It was mine once! Can anyone explain to me how this picture can be only four years old, but I look ten years younger??