The Lady, the S.O. and I took in some local and independent theatre this summer at the Fringe Festival. The Lady is a seasoned Fringer, even having produced, wrote, directed and acted in a few shows during her youth. Throughout the course of our Fringe adventures, the Lady filled me with snacks, water bottles and the program they so often checked and rechecked for showtimes and venue locations. Despite the rain and challenges finding decent parking, we stood in line for Festival favourites Die Roten Punkte and Monster Theatre.
In one such line, the Lady spotted some intricate graffiti she wanted to photograph for her ever-growing collection. The S.O. offered to carry me while the Lady ran off to snap a photo. He looked rather strapping with me slung over his shoulder, if I do say so myself! The Lady, however, did not look quite so lovely when she returned to us in a panic. Apparently after she took the first photo, she looked around to see if there was any other graffiti in the vicinity worthy of collecting. Instead of graffiti, she found a fellow sleeping on the ground, tucked into the corner. Startled by this sight and stifling a scream, she ran back to the S.O. for a comforting hug. Poor dear!
In one such line, the Lady spotted some intricate graffiti she wanted to photograph for her ever-growing collection. The S.O. offered to carry me while the Lady ran off to snap a photo. He looked rather strapping with me slung over his shoulder, if I do say so myself! The Lady, however, did not look quite so lovely when she returned to us in a panic. Apparently after she took the first photo, she looked around to see if there was any other graffiti in the vicinity worthy of collecting. Instead of graffiti, she found a fellow sleeping on the ground, tucked into the corner. Startled by this sight and stifling a scream, she ran back to the S.O. for a comforting hug. Poor dear!
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