Last days as a swamp dweller
The time has come to leave Vallejo.
The hand crossbow is in a bucket, alligators and ducks are in old trenchcoat pockets, and my tea collection is bagged up and ready to go.
I'm going to go live in a secret garden in the South bay, where possums march across rooftops, black squirells have gang wars over persimmons, and the olive trees are probably at least a century old. I plan on learning to bake gingerbread cookies, and giving up the illusion that I'm anything but a fictional character let loose on this world.
Goodbye, beautiful napa river!
The hand crossbow is in a bucket, alligators and ducks are in old trenchcoat pockets, and my tea collection is bagged up and ready to go.
I'm going to go live in a secret garden in the South bay, where possums march across rooftops, black squirells have gang wars over persimmons, and the olive trees are probably at least a century old. I plan on learning to bake gingerbread cookies, and giving up the illusion that I'm anything but a fictional character let loose on this world.
Goodbye, beautiful napa river!