short

There’s a town at the edge of a pine forest, where the houses are low and the wind smells like woodsmoke and sweetgrass. The roads are mostly gravel. The mailboxes lean a little to the side. And at the very end of a winding lane, tucked behind a thicket of blackberry bushes, there’s a tiny cabin...

Don't wanna mispost, think this goes here ok, so this was my attempted method of societal disentanglement. Left Pierce, ave, Costa Mesa on a beach cruiser towing a methodically loaded, unrealistic cart. Circled bk in dejected shame, offloaded commemorative cast iron elvises and antique Chinese...