Wish I could write something like “ I had a farm in Africa” and within the same pararagraph confess two men in my life; fill the space with words of adventure, entrenched with the obliteration of culture, the wane of natural wild country, yet, finger God and have a lion lay upon my lovers grave in the end. -- but I think that would be a story ; belonging to someone else. Already cherished. Already explored. Already concord.

I’ve actually read some of these blogs from all realms o... read more