You'd think a photo of a piece of paper on a post would be easy. But the wind was blowing and the light was glaring and I was being attacked by Arctic Terns. OK, we did see a couple of Arctic Terns but they weren't attacking.
Here's a good assignment for a writing class:
Write a 1000 word essay about the vandalism at Potter Marsh with the vandal as the narrator.
You know that it must have felt like the right thing to do at the time. Where does that sort of anger toward the world come from? (See, I'm already assuming anger.)
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