Guest post by Sloan Dorr
Patrick and I had picked up a fellow wanderluster at the Canadian boarder. Ha had translucent skin and was tall and skinnier than my pinky finger with long shaggy hair and a malt liquor habit. He’d ride a skateboard everywhere if he could, carries a pen and paper for his art, and is always waiting for a bone to heal, a cut to scab, or a bruise to lose its color. One of those guys that wears a wool hat in the summertime because he’s cold, not because he’s a hipster. His hands are always stained with ink because he can’t stop drawing charicatures. They’re crude, but really good.
