The foot was not real.
And I was slightly disappointed.
As I was Middling City returning last night, oh at about 9PM if you need such timeline clarification, from the traditional Greek Orthodox wedding I was hired to socially document (and at which the priest, Fr. Jim - who looks like a 70s rock star - forgot, I mean completely FORGOT, to do two whole portions of the wedding ceremony so that it wasn't legit and the couple, me and the priest had to go back into the church and do a few little maneuvers), I spotted a foot lying in the street.
William Street just under the 190 overpass. I thought OH wow, a foot.
I mean how David Lynch, non?
I turned around onto a deadend and went back and yup, a foot.
Met some people out for drinks and general merriment and said Oh, I saw a foot. And the filmmaker in the bunch (of course) expressed the most amazement.
I returned to the site.
I had my camera.
I parked this time and walked over.
Standing over it I still wasn't sure.
I, of course, took lots of dramatic photos, some showing oncoming traffic up William Street.
I got braver and then touched the foot with my foot.
So plastic.
So bummed.

This week is the artmaking with Team A boys. I have to rustle together my twin girl models and assure them that they will NOT be naked, in peril, and will look great.
I am going today to private silk screen printing lessons.
Wednesday it better not *bleeping* rain.
This week is also Lenny Kravitz. And Pink. And a big photo no to Creed as I think Scott's face is probably as wide as a billboard now and his chest hair is probably overtaking his arms and his J.C. poses are now impossible so therefore no snaps.
Dorota and Jason were in town and that meant that the upstairs rooms were actually occupied, my personal happiness levels were increased and the liver is crying for mercy.
Love.