Today on the carpool ride to work I glanced out the window as we turned onto a busy street in Kulola Pushta, and did a double take. Sticking out from the trunk of the little red toyota corrolla next to us were the raw legs of an animal carcass. With the trunk tied down over the protruding body, four hooves and glistening, flesh-pink legs bounced around as the car manuevered the potholed dusty street. The remainder of the bare body (fur and skin stripped away), waiting to be turned into dinner once it reached its final destination, rolled back and forth inside on the trunk’s carpet.
Later in the day, I took a car to the grocery store, and while passing a park where shirts and scarves are hung from the metal perimeter fence to be sold, I spied a Sound-to-Narrows race tshirt, which I am going to believe can only be referring to Puget Sound and Tacoma Narrows bridge (such a race does exist, right?). A random and comforting little flash of home in a completely opposite corner of the world. That does not, however, apply to the cow carcass in the trunk.