PR
"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." –Camus
On occasion, in the middle of this frozen obscurity, I pour some limeade, crushed ice and Pusser's Rum.
Eyes closed
First sip: puts my feet in the sand, the second in the sea and the third in her arms.
Why am I here?
Limeade, crushed ice, Pusser’s Rum.
Sip one, puts me on the Horned Dorset Primavera’s plush white bed, the second dancing to drums in El Combatae, the third she is skipping rocks into the sea and I can’t see why we can’t be free—findourslevesalittlesliceoftranquility.
Why are we here?
Crushed ice, Pusser’s Rum.
Sip.