My paint encrusted work pants seem to me to become senselessly, effortlessly beautiful.

At last too stiff to wear, I've saved some of them, now 14 pairs, amusing myself by considering them in numerous options that include concrete forms, fences, polyurethane, awnings....  I finally settled on hanging them out to dry, permanently, to watch the twenty eight legs wave in the wind among falling leaves, freeze in ice storms, and slowly disintegrate.  Perhaps the single layer fabric will be the first to give, leaving the pockets and seams and masses of paint strung together until at last, they drop.