No, we're walking!
This is my favorite bridge. It has hand-knitted rails.
And leads to some integral knowledge, written on a wall.
I'd also like to add: Fuck The Boston Tea Party cafe on Park Street for serving up the worst breakfast I had this year. What a soulless plate of badly prepared produce.
Where is the rest of that animal? Maybe in The Boston Tea Party's Park Street kitchen.
Sharmila in red with swallow
Bloody paparazzi!
Is that last picture one of a giant, or a midget?
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