Where did you come from? When were you born? Who are your folks? And what are you looking for? How the hell are you so black that you look just like a blob? And – I really want to know – why are you in my seat all the time?
the Hanover smile
I’m home, taking care of a few things. The Caboose is waiting for me in Turkey, and sometimes I can hear her call. What can I do but softly whisper back, telling her to wait just a bit longer, just until the end of March. She says she understands. But she keeps on calling. Meanwhile, […]