april
It's a perfect April morning. 71 degrees. Clear. Cloudless, save for the thinnest wisps high in the stratosphere.
Fields and medians showcase my favorite wildflowers: desert chicory, bluebonnets, bishop's lace, and evening primrose.
Days like this I wish I still had the '72 Mustang convertible. It's the absolute perfect day for a drive.
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How do you not mourn all the things you sacrificed on the way to becoming who you are?
What if you're displeased with the outcome?
10:32 a.m. - 2024-04-13