In the morning, you get the news your best friend has killed his wife and you think, "Hey, that's a thing I might someday like to try."
We harvest wisdom wherever we can. In rice fields, unnerved roads accept, like fish, that floods will wash them away. But it's never so easy,
is it? Floods, tornadoes, murder. No matter how furiously we paint onto old canvasses, something of the abandoned work shows through.
Best Man
Forward