Prelude to Spring in Seoul

April 20, 2013

So I just saw this. No, peeped would be a more apt past participle verb to employ in this instance. From my prime seating on the blue 408 bus - usually taken as a back-up plan to the express 1005-1 since it comes in fucking 20 plus minute intervals (thereby negating any express benefits unless the hand of fate decides to intervene on those rarest of rare occasions) - I spot them. Although a good 70~85 meters away, my blue-greens focus squarely upon the towering twin peaks.

For those readers who may not know, in Seoul, while not exceedingly rare - as say weed - exsquisite breasts demand attention of the highest order. How can I say this? Dear reader, these breasts were not locked down. By that I want to say that the fortunate transporter of said breasts did not constrict them in order to "blend in" with the local habitat. Unlike so many amply endowed transportors (and they are, like a valet of a stretch limo, merely carrying those marvelous expressions of perfection around from 'a' to 'b' for all to see; but I digress) who treat their otherworldly sisters not unlike how former generations of Chinese did in regards to women's feet - fucking disfiguring the shit out of them - this wise woman announced them to the world in their full glory.

A well worn, washed-out purple, high thread count cotton shirt, with the following words inscribed on the upper portion in what I believe to be Akzidenz Grotesk font: "NOT SILICONE."

All caps. Nuff said.