My buddy Bill killing it! Check out his great and inspiring prose.
Fall’s moody shadows, pine needles, leaves: all that starts from above one day will drop, past the mountain peaks Jack Kerouac walked, they probably looked the same to him too, it’s hard to believe those photos of people in the past in black and white lived in the same color as we do.
Lily and I walked down to a patch of grass by the lake and I got out a cut of smoked salmon we shared with a knife and ate the skin, briny and tough like something you shouldn’t eat, like the foam backing from the packaging but it wasn’t, just tough and scaly, and I wondered if it was bad for me but didn’t care it was so good: the clouds made shadow patterns like claws skittering up the backs of the mountains, like bat wings unfolding in the contours and couloirs — and I made Lily lead the…
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