The outer parapet came up to her chin, but along the inner edge of the walk was nothing, nothing but a long plunge to the bailey seventy or eighty feet below. All it would take was a shove, she told herself. He was standing right there, right there, smirking at her with those fat wormlips. You could do it, she told herself. You could. Do it right now. It wouldn’t even matter if she went over with him. It wouldn’t matter at all.
if your boy ain’t manistee, your boy ain’t shit
"who’s the lady with the log?"
"we call her log lady."
beautiful. absolute perfection. god this show is great.
just want to live in the woods with a dog and a wood-burning fireplace and a vegetable garden. i want to walk through silent woods in my snowshoes and hand-made hat with a shotgun and my dog. i want to live alone with a dog and that’s the only future i see for myself right now.