Marlboro

Here in this part of the country, seeing a pack of Marlboros is a rarity. They are cigarettes of the west and the south, not of the far northeast, the almost-Canada.

The sun came out today in Boston, I credit it to the many of you who told me it would. I took many photos, but knew when I photographed this that it was, shall we say, the one.

I don't smoke myself (and wouldn't) but someone does and I like to think they're in town for the upcoming Harvard graduation, watching their youngun get his big fancy schmancy degree.

Of course this is all likely a load of crap, probably some dumb Harvard kid himself who mindlessly litters.

But why ruin the illusion?

P.S. What happens when you bake a milk dud into a cookie? Find out next time...