Believe me, under many circumstances, I like Psalm 123 a lot: plenty of sheep, even if it's not as much of a favorite as Psalm 121, which used to give me a great deal of sustenance as a small girl (I repeated it endlessly, fervently under my breath when I was about 10, and at the pain-killer-free dentist - help had to come from somewhere, I figured). But on a wall, in an alley just down from our hotel? Colorado Springs is, indeed, the home to a great deal of fundamentalism (and, tonight, to Fan Fest - a great gathering of car enthusiasts prior to the annual Pike's Peak motor race. We were sorry not to hang around for the firefighters' grand chile cook off, though maybe were less regretful about missing the daredevil motorbike jumpers).
I turned round from photographing the graffiti to find this woman trying to take her dog for a walk. This was after a day reading about Colorado Springs' issues of Liberty Bonds in 1917, and before driving off to find where someone committed suicide (shooting himself in chilly February) in 1942. We sure know how to have fun.
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