When we were kids, on May Day (today) we would pick flowers and make baskets of them and run around the neighborhood leaving them on doorsteps and ringing the doorbell and running. It’s one of those oddly surreal childhood memories that makes me wonder if just the same my life now will someday be an oddly surreal memory. And whether that would be good or bad.
Happy May Day!
Oh David, that’s beautiful
i miss you, brother.
this is a beautiful thing.