"may I photograph your heels?"...SUNDOWN.

Today I was in San Francisco for my first ever job interview. Hello Real Life. All corp'ed out in my business cash' attire, I was celebratory-strutting down the Embarcadero when all of a sudden I was accosted by a short and breathless middle-aged man. "I am an artist, and a sculptor," he huffily explained, "and I have NEVER, seen such beautiful arches as yours." Suddenly he was on his knees, extending his pudgy arms out towards my feet whilst I was simultaneously wondering if I had just become the center of a comedic horror movie in which the young ingenue is lured into showing a random man her feet and then is kidnapped or murdered in the bright daylight of the hobo-patrolled San Francisco Embarcadero. And yet, being the naive pushover that I am, I hesitated yet ultimately obliged and soon after there I was with a pudgy middle-aged man caressing the bottoms of my feet whilst he positioned them in the sunlight to best capture their beauty with the bohemian lens of his blackberry curve. And 10 minutes later after he triumphantly concluded his work--the most intimate anyone has or ever will be with my gnarly feet, I snapped out of post foot-admiration letdown and took a moment to myself to utter the only words that could possibly describe this outlandish situation: "SUN.DOWN."