There was a truck. There were cones. There was lots of yellow tape.
So I didn't even bother to read the sign. I just looked up to see if there was some window washer platform swaying about or some crane about to tear something down.
Instead, nothing was there.
So I looked at the sign. Oh, I wondered, is art being throw out the window? Or are they trying to find lost art and it might accidentally hit the sidewalk?
I'm not very imaginative or bright in the morning. Certainly, not after one cup of coffee.
A kid in a jumpsuit with a logo was moving stuff around. So I asked him. What art and how did it get lost?
"Sign painting," he said.
I looked up again, and instead of nothing, I saw a wonderful canvas, waiting to be found.
**
Related Posts:
Summer Reruns During Brutal Writing Blocks: A Labor Of Love
Sunday Memories: On The Cusp Of Marilyn