There was this little hidden garden of porcelain figurines on the side of the road. It was both adorable and disturbing.
Which is, after all, the very best kind of adorable.
On reflection, I guess I was in a sort of over-arching mood of disturbing, like I had just re-read The Lottery just prior to vacationing in an old farmhouse in a remote town in rural New England.
Which, on further reflection, I guess I had.