The Village Pet Store and Charcoal Grill

Banksy's unique little pet store like no other .

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While New Yorkers have been consumed by the stock market meltdown, a tiny little pet store quietly opened four days ago at 89 7th Avenue between West 4th and Bleeker Street in the West Village of New York City.

There are no puppies or kittens in the windows here.

Instead, a live leopard lounges on a tree in the window.

Or is it?

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In other windows, things get a bit more bizarre.

McDonald's Chicken McNuggets sip barbecue sauce. A rabbit puts on her makeup. A CCTV camera nurtures its young.

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Clearly, that this isn't your typical pet store.
So who's the "owner" of the Village Pet Store and Charcoal Grill at 89 West 7th Avenue?


Banksy. (Read more)

Someone please take me to New York now.
Banksy, my Mr. One-of-a-Kind.
I honestly wish I was more articulate to be able to describe Banksy a whole lot better,
but I suppose I shall just leave that to Wikipedia.

Take care, beautiful.

missed.

Do you notice it rarely never rains on Wednesday mornings?
Maybe the sky just has its perfect timing. Or that God just wants me to work out.
Thunder and lightning play violent games in the sky above,
while I lay here in the duvets. Thinking.

It started at 5 this morn' and it might just start again-
the violent games they play, I mean.
Oh why is today such a sad day?
I shall cheer myself up with a long read from Lucy Christopher's Stolen.

I apologize for this dull post,
with no available photos and lack of describable adjectives.
My beloved inanimate object is gone, and will be back in two days time.
No dirty thoughts about the comment above, please. It's a sentimental moment.

Take care.


"May I leave, please? I promise I'll come back. "


"You may go. I'll save you again when you get lost."


-excerpt from Stolen, as how I remember it to be.

Ty needs to stop making me cry.

A song by the president's wife


L'amoureuse

Il semble que quelqu'un ait convoqué l'espoir
Les rues sont des jardins, je danse sur les trottoirs
Il semble que mes bras soient devenus des ailes
Qu'à chaque instant qui vole je puisse toucher le ciel
Qu'à chaque instant qui passe je puisse manger le ciel

Les clochers sont penchés les arbres déraisonnent
Ils croulent sous les fleurs au plus roux de l'automne
La neige ne fond plus la pluie chante doucement
Et même les réverbères ont un air impatient
Et même les cailloux se donnent l'air important

Car je suis l'amoureuse, oui je suis l'amoureuse
Et je tiens dans me mains la seule de toutes les choses
Je suis l'amoureuse, je suis ton amoureuse
Et je chante pour toi la seule de toutes les choses
Qui vaille d'être là, qui vaille d'être là

Le temps s'est arrêté, les heures sont volages
Les minutes frissonnent et l'ennui fait naufrage
Tout paraît inconnu tout croque sous la dent
Et le bruit du chagrin s'éloigne lentement
Et le bruit du passé se tait tout simplement

Oh, les murs chagent de pierres,
Le ciel change de nuages,
La vie change de manières et dansent les mirages
On a vu m'a-t-on dit le destin se montrer
Il avait mine de rien l'air de tout emporter
Il avait ton allure, ta façon de parler

Car je suis l'amoureuse, oui je suis l'amoureuse
Et je tiens dans me mains la seule de toutes les choses
Je suis l'amoureuse, je suis ton amoureuse
Et je chante pour toi la seule de toutes les choses
Qui vaille d'être là, qui vaille d'être là


It seems someone conveid hope
Streets are gardens, I dance on the sidewalks
It seems my arms became wings
That in every moment that flies I can touch the sky
That in every moment that goes by I can eat the sky

The bell towers are tilted, the trees are in a nonsense
They collapse under the flowers on the most red of autumn
Snow doesn't melt anymore, rain is slowly singing
And even streetlights have an impatient sight
And even stones want to look important

Because I'm the lover, Yes I'm the lover
And I hold in my hands the only of all things
I'm the lover, I'm your lover
And I sing for you the only of all things
That needs to be here, that needs to be here

Time stopped, hours are changing
The minutes are freezing and the boredom makes wreck
Everything seems unknown, everything crunches under the teeth
And the noise of sorrow slowly goes away
And the noise of the past is just silent now

Oh, the walls change their stones
The sky changes his clouds
The life changes manners and dance mirages
It was seen was I told that destiny showed up
He looked like nothing, seemed to take everything
He got your look, your manner of speak

Because I'm the lover, Yes I'm the lover
And I hold in my hands the only of all things
I'm the lover, I'm your lover
And I sing for you the only of all things
That needs to be here, that needs to be here

The man with the balloons.

The ringing sound of the alarm had woke him.
Deryk sat up and stretched his arms.
Nothing annoyed him more than being awaken from an unfinished slumber.
Dissatisfied, he got out of bed and slipped on his comfy bedroom slippers.

"Deryk darling, come now, I've made your favorite breakfast- eggs Benedict and honey soaked pancakes. "
Deryk smiled as soon as he heard those words.
His bubbly wife always knew what to say to cheer him up.
He headed to the showers, washed up and went to the kitchen for breakfast.
He greeted his loving wife with a kiss, and sat down to have his breakfast.
As he ate. he looked out the kitchen window and thought.
Life was terribly dull, and nothing had gone as planned.
His dreams of becoming a pilot only resulted in his daily 9 to 5 job.
Flying high was always his passion, but now he earned his living
stuck in a solid cubicle.
He reminiscence the days where he was a care free spirit,
and life was nothing but a vast unknown adventure that awaited him.

The sound from the television distracted his thoughts,
and his eyes drifted to the animated screen.
The television was showed a house carried by countless balloons,
floating up and down through the skies.
His wife, although mature on the outside,
never fully outgrown her childish side.
Down, or whatever direction it was called,
had always been one of her favorite movies.
It reminded her of the impossibilities in life;
the fact that mere balloons were able to lift a house into the sky
was already something both impossible and yet inspirational at the same time.

As he watched the movie, a small idea began to form in his mind,
growing and growing until it became something he had to do.
Deryk wolfed down his breakfast and headed to the closet.
A box of balloons were kept there, goodness knows why.
He took the box out, picked up a couple rubber balloons and blew into them,
filling them up with as much air as they could hold.

He headed to the kitchen window, with the balloons tied to a string looped through his hand.
Deryk placed his right foot out onto the ledge, and before placing his left,
he stretched out his free arm and grabbed onto his briefcase.
He starred out at the city, and clutched both objects in his hand tighter.
He thought about the good old days, the rebellious free spirit he once was.
"Let me see if I can defy logic," he thought.
If balloons could life a house, shouldn't he be able to fair the same?

Ignoring his frantically screaming wife,
and the outcomes of what he was about to do,
Deryk took a deep breath and jumped.