I see a skateboard abandoned on the grass. It is distinctly lonely.
The blue of blue hydrangers is the blue of Mediterranean skies and says everything that needs to be said about blue.
I see a hoodie. I've nothing against hoodies. In the winter when it's cold I might be inclined to wear a hood myself. It seems a good way to hide your identity, and why shouldn't you? But I am glad that I am not a member of the Conservative party whose leader wants its members to hug hoodies. Even if I were a member, I wouldn't. Even if there were a hoodie I wanted to hug, I wouldn't hug it until it adopted a less intrusive item of a headwear. And if I were hoodie, the last thing in the world I would want is to have a chubby conservative envelope me in its arms. So where is the beautiful thing that has given rise to this observation? Not entirely beautiful perhaps, but it's amusing ( isn't it?) to spot what is ridiculous in the slogans which assault us from all sides.