[ March blinks slowly, truly taking the sight in: there’s a little kid in a jacket and a rifle proclaiming he hates the moon with a vehemency normally reserved for the murder of a loved one.
Alright. Well. March blinks again. ]
Yeah, I don’t really see it this clearly where I’m from.
no subject
Alright. Well. March blinks again. ]
Yeah, I don’t really see it this clearly where I’m from.