I was chugging slowly uphill through a school zone on the way to class today and I took a moment to look to the right. The unfortunate building responsible for the whole slow chugging situation sat primly behind a chain link fence and looked disapprovingly back at me. Fine, I thought, and looked to the left instead.
The view on the left was tremendous. In a tiny, tiny field of exuberant grass on top of the hill were four llamas: three adults and one baby. Framed by the blue mountains that scrape the sky, they cast long shadows to the west; they struck gloriously pastoral poses in the morning sun. The light was warm and friendly on their wild fur. Five minutes later, I said to myself, "Behold! Llamas," and was immensely pleased.
But nobody could hear you say it, not even you, due to the rumbling of the beastly Landrover.
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