Long days at work are wearing me down. It makes me want to write like a POW in a bad movie. Food is bad. Mosquitos are vicious. Water is tainted with “Tab” and Prozac. Only recourse is to drive around and do recon. The camera provides coverage from the snipers. I’m just another damn tourist with a straw hat and tacky shorts. white socks and black sandals. a five o’clock shadow and a polyester smile. and maybe every once in a while a gold tooth flashes through the fog, lighting the way for the blind masses yearning to be Fred.
Don’t Ask, just look at the pictures. They are purty.