I give you a euro, you give me…

another garage sale in Paris. Zack is gone. I bundle up and head out in the rain this Saturday morning. A man out of the back of his packed car has things arranged in a heap on the table (yes, an arranged heap) and I paid him one euro for a pack of 80s looking male nudie cards (an early christmas gift for someone) that have been scribbled on in French girly handwriting. During this exchange he notices my Obama button, and says in French, “that Obama…great guy, we sure do need change over there, but I think his discourse comes off a bit stern.” I nod and I put the cards in my bag. He continues while his wife listens in: “he promises so much, and he could turn right around after all that talk once he gets elected like our president did.” He squints at me, in his garage sale clothes with his garage sale wife and garage sale table, and I nod wishing half of Americans had that much insight on the candidates as this French guy did. And then I saw a terrier in an orange polyester jumpsuit, both a shirt and pants element, get away from its owner among all the garage sale tables. He trotted along, right through a man’s dvds he had laid out on a mat. “Ho! Hoh!” dvd man yells to dog on the loose man. Dog on the loose man grumbles after polyester jumpsuit dog on the loose, who seems happy to be at a garage sale.

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