rocks: there’s dead people under those rocks. should’ve listened to the natives, they knew the mountain was shifting. …
cruisin’ in the fleetline
my memories of my grandfather are rooted in the smell of his garage as he restored this car. …
sticks and streams
playing with cousins in the forest with sticks and mud; balancing on fallen branches, peeing in the stream. …
weekend in fernie
rivers and lakes and beaches and mountains; burgers and ice cream and lattes and sushi. a good break…
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