It's amazing to me what people throw out in Cobble Hill. I can understand ditching a couple of books on the sidewalk, and if your furniture gets broken beyond your ability to MacGyver it together, there are plenty of other MacGyver-esque people out there who deserve a shot at glory. But this?
How awesome is my new conch shell? Seriously, who gets rid of this? It takes up less room than a space heater and if there's a better object with which to defend yourself in close-range, limited arsenal combat, that object is probably illegal in every state except Arkansas.
I found this on my way to the laundromat today, sitting on a stoop next to the third Harry Potter book, so my only explanation for my incredible urban foraging luck is that the wizards gave it to me. I can't decide whether I should put it out on my fire escape or sleep with it in my bed. That would actually be really uncomfortable and likely make my teddy bear super jealous, but that's how much I love this conch shell.
The spirits of the sidewalk have seen fit to bless me with gifts beyond measure, and yeah, the writer looked out from her studio-plus-alcove and saw that it was good.
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