Tag Archives: childhood

Strange, how there’s no money in bending spoons, levitating, walking through walls, eating fire. Stranger still, the mind’s tireless insistence on returning to the same vault of memory:  a woven hammock bleached by the sun, beach glass, the texture of a Van Gogh, metallic oysters, cold beer, fried shrimp, French vanilla ice cream. Strangest ofContinue reading “Withlacoochee River, 1986”