"All my bridges were gone and I didn’t give a damn about anything at all." A Friday night spent atop a grassy hill at a distant city park in the company of Jack Kerouac, my twenty-one year old solitude, a pack of cigarettes, a Radiohead playlist and a familiar ancient half-hearted moon.

"All my bridges were gone and I didn’t give a damn about anything at all." A Friday night spent atop a grassy hill at a distant city park in the company of Jack Kerouac, my twenty-one year old solitude, a pack of cigarettes, a Radiohead playlist and a familiar ancient half-hearted moon.

Posted on Sep 13 with 15 notes