It was at this point that I realized artistic vision doesn’t necessarily align with the amount of crappy stuff at hand, so I had to liberate the third fork from a bicycle clearly left for dead, yet still chained around a tree, on the main avenue in my Brooklyn neighborhood. While I would have preferred to do this in the cloak of darkness, time constraints necessitated I place my morning coffee on the sidewalk, pull an allen wrench out of my handbag, and pilfer it in front of the 9am bagel crowd.
I find my bike makes a good clothes hanger.
