Here, a picture of the author content, resplendant in taffeta robe and slippers, happy to be home.
Here, a picture of Santos, the trail that saved the author from madness and despair while on the road. The bike felt unknown to me. I was a happily oblivious wooden toy-creaking and clacking on wooden joints imitating the fleshed riders I saw streaming through the green.
And here is a picture of rain, which is brewing outside this morning in Tallahassee, FL- land of my gods and my monsters. S’quatch is away on cult-related business. Wrecking Ball is further wrecked. The realm is in tatters, and still we fight on.
Squire! My broom! My bucket! To war!