I smell like blood from the slaughter house.
I took all of these beautiful photos of the slaughter this morning, but I don't think I should put them online for all my friends to see. It might destory my image as an 'innocente' just a little bit. They're pretty gruesome. But they're gorgeous, too.
I spent a while speaking to some clients (in French!) while they waited for their chickens to be killed and their bunnies cleaned. They avowed their support of Obama and then asked me if I was married. Then, with a wrinkle of their noses, they cautioned me against [redacted].
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