There’s a guy I happen upon from time to time. Let’s call him Steve. Steve has been a fixture in my hometown for at least the last two decades. He’s short, blue-eyed and bushy-tailed, with thinning gray hair, knobby elbows and knees swollen from outdoor living and arthritis. He’s an amiable sort if he’s taking his medications, bright, witty, always looking to please. He’s talented, he draws, he sculpts driftwood.
The Way of the Wanderers (Part Three)
The Way of the Wanderers (Part Three)
The Way of the Wanderers (Part Three)
There’s a guy I happen upon from time to time. Let’s call him Steve. Steve has been a fixture in my hometown for at least the last two decades. He’s short, blue-eyed and bushy-tailed, with thinning gray hair, knobby elbows and knees swollen from outdoor living and arthritis. He’s an amiable sort if he’s taking his medications, bright, witty, always looking to please. He’s talented, he draws, he sculpts driftwood.