A host of black socks, a few gray mixed in, lying on the windshield of a stationary taxi parked on a busy street.
Months ago I would have been puzzled. By now, causality is clear.
Socks wet from laundry. No dryer. Dearth of places to hang them. Let them drip on the eastern side of the yellow cab, the window angled toward the sun.
Mkes sense. When we were leaving Orlando, the guy that checked us in said that they had to move their planes out into the sun that morning to get them defrosted because they didn’t have de-icers in Orlando.Same concept.