Since I was somewhat overwhelmed by gold dusted chocolate bars and ostrich eggs sold only a few feet from one another, I made note of the name and fled- without one.
Later.. in an equally rare visit to the fancy celluloid drugstore, and while perusing the aisles of Bernardo Bertolucci films while having menacing thoughts towards film snobs, I overheard an unusual conversation..
It's dense and firm, like it has no pulp.
There are these fingers that grow out of it.
Ya, I don't know. Fingers. I can't think of any other way to describe them.
I leaned around the corner and said.. you're talking about Buddha's Hands aren't you?
2 comments:
My gawd, if you don't publish your creative writing, I'm going to steel your writing and publish it for you. You are a brilliant creative writer!
Tell me you would never eat raw milk cheese!! Who knows what kind of bacteria it harbors.
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