Dusty skies. Dusty days. Dust under my fingernails…peru, I’ve got peru under my fingernails. And the hot-heat and the long-road, and the asphalt spitting fire and the air with that vmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmm vmmmm mantra that I can only hear on those days when the sun is a foot off the ground for hours at a time, (and . . . → Read More: how far? a stream of consciousness thingy
what’d you say?