![](http://lh4.ggpht.com/_T3l7rnpA31A/S-I7zqk3uSI/AAAAAAAABrk/Es5jWHSQ84I/s800/Weeds1.jpg)
![](http://lh6.ggpht.com/_T3l7rnpA31A/S-I7zz4IteI/AAAAAAAABro/BrhIqgT9KMQ/s800/Weeds2.jpg)
![](http://lh3.ggpht.com/_T3l7rnpA31A/S-I7z08JvKI/AAAAAAAABrs/XhGYNLQfI_Q/s800/Weeds3.jpg)
![](http://lh6.ggpht.com/_T3l7rnpA31A/S-I70LEPHVI/AAAAAAAABrw/loclTbkS6ok/s800/Weeds4.jpg)
![](http://lh6.ggpht.com/_T3l7rnpA31A/S-I70QH2J0I/AAAAAAAABr0/Efy5BWegkZI/s800/Weeds5.jpg)
![](http://lh4.ggpht.com/_T3l7rnpA31A/S-I8CQ8YL6I/AAAAAAAABr4/X8xMAkwOegk/s800/Weeds6.jpg)
"Weeds" outside my apartment.
The bell-flowers and creeping vine (morning glory?) looked straight out of an Art Nouveau illustration--very inviting.
All I could think about while walking past the thistle patch that is literally as tall as I am was how unbelievably scary it would be to trip and fall into it.
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