Was rushing to work this morning, late and stuck in traffic. As usual.
At the traffic light, there was this old man behind us on what I would call a luna/moped/what-do-you-call-them-here.
And he was whistling. A song he liked perhaps. And he was whistling. With ups and downs and vibratos. Like there was no tomorrow.
How dare he? How dare he enjoy the morning rush?
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6 comments:
oh no... dont tell me...another Polka Dodge??
Sigh. Be nice to me.
Tumne mera namak khaya hai.
bloody rascala
oOo. Look who found their way to my blog!
Yes, total rascala.
Namak ho Tata ka.... Tata Namak!
ok ya... i'll be nice.
pzptuels: do tell.. is it a flower ?
No, its perpetual for amateurs.
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