Here from There

Broken glass tastes like honey and barbed wire feels like silk these days.

There are no woods like the home woods and there are no other woods like ours.

Forgive me this moment of optimism, this suspension of hostilities. My inner thug, protector and enforcer, seems to have taken some time off. Riding out at Munson two days in a row after fresh rain I just can’t find anything to complain about. I can perceive no injustice to motivate myself.

Turning the pedals is both means and end.


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