Now that R.I.P knew how to achieve his goal, he just had to find the means. So he got into his clunker of a car, which was parked on one of Detroit’s countless seedy, run-down streets littered with as many broken streetlamps as broken dreams . . .
Tag: Nobody’s Home
We are supposed to meet beneath the stars, while the ocean whispers. I’ve stripped to my briefs and sampled the water with my toes . . .