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Woman Thinks She is the Queen of the City Park
The image does not depict the actual subjects of the story. Subjects are models.
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This is sovereignty by squatter’s rights, a kind of suburban Game of Thrones but with more tennis balls and fewer functioning leashes.
Meanwhile, in a parallel dimension of basic decency, The Group assembles, a ragtag band of small dog enthusiasts whose unified front against chaos consists of scooping, socializing, and producing obedience displays that would put the Westminster crowd to shame. Their crime, apparently, is occupying space in the Queen’s sightline. Sitting quietly in the shade, incidentally near the epicenter of her cat’s next trauma, they are accused with the fervor of a medieval witch trial and about as much evidence.
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One day it’s their location, the next it’s their proximity to rubbish bins, and always, always, it is the air they choose to breathe in Her Majesty’s view. Reality check: your mortgage stops at the sidewalk; the rest is mutual territory, also known as “public property.” Yet the Queen continues her campaign, demanding the peasants stop sitting, stop walking, or perhaps just stop existing in the Royal Park altogether.
You almost admire the delusion. Almost. -
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The image does not depict the actual subjects of the story. Subjects are models.
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The image does not depict the actual subjects of the story. Subjects are models.
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