Again, Hollins. Sled tracks and footprints up and down the hill in front of me. The panoramic view the architecture provides is beautiful, the woods that roll over the slopes. I am alone with my thoughts and aware of that. I do very little to run from them and the depression sometimes grabs and shakes and shakes and shakes and shakes me until my neck cracks back creating a trench. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone down the hill in a sled, or played King of the Hill with my friends across the street. “You’re going into Jr. High next year,” he said. “Sooner or later, you won’t wanna hang out with me any more.” You’re wrong I told him, but this all came to pass.

An old friend calls with potential freelance graphics work. Awesome!

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