Live in a city, see crazy stuff: Caged children

So remember that time I saw that one-legged rooster and I told you all I'd share more crazy stuff when I see it?

I saw it.

I was driving down some street the other day, probably a busy one, and I was at a red light, oh so patiently waiting for it to turn to freedooommm (re: green). So I took in the scenery, city-style. No trees. No ocean. No fields of dreams.

Just some caged children.

Yep.



Something like that. Minus the grass. And the gun. And the sweet shades. Mentally add in a brick building with a walkway separated from the sidewalk by floor-to-ceiling rusting metal bars.

And where you see that one kid in the playpen, throw in a good twenty more.

Then pretend they're smiling. Waving. Laughing. Enjoying life. In their happy little "pre-school" of sorts.

I'll tell you this much, should I ever have a child in this great city of Chicago, I won't be sending her (right, her. No baby Bruce Axel will be exiting this body) there. I don't care how happy they are.


*Bt-dub, so you know that I think of you outside this odd bloggy-world, I want to tell you that I thought about taking a picture of these sad caged children who were not sad at all, but the law-abiding educator in me just couldn't be okay posting a picture of children on the internet without parental consent. I know, lame. But at least I've communicated the mental image to you, no? It's probably better in your noggin anyways.

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