Retired from the rat race, and now a stay at home dad. Amateur photographer who attempts to write American Haiku in the style of Jack Kerouac to go with some of his photography, as he debates about becoming a professional photographer
While in bed at night, I can hear the brakes drums wailing on the big rigs as they stop for the traffic light. The sound is like a beast from pre-historic times
While in bed at night, I can hear the brakes drums wailing on the big rigs as they stop for the traffic light. The sound is like a beast from pre-historic times
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