One of Those Days
It would have been far better had I sewn my mouth shut, pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, and avoided Sam's Town entirely; but there was so much I wanted to say so poorly, had no hood to pull over my head, and that town is the town we built from shit. That's when yester met day, but even at its worst, it's the kind of memory I'd hate to cast away.
This is what makes sense to me.
2 comments:
that picture makes me ill.
You should see the next picture of that very same deer (which shall be posted rather soon).
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