I took this picture today on my walk. How it brought back an intense memory. The fading light through the trees was soft owing to the smoke issuing from the line of lake-side cabins and adding to the vigorous smell of cooked pickerel. Sunday…
An early fall Sunday, two men walk onto the Lions’ Gate Bridge on the west walk way from opposite sides. Will, forty-five, looks sixty, gray haired, tall, limping due to a bad back, dressed in a thin, dirty suit jacket, no tie and his…
