8:25am Saturday morning. I was a little early, standing outside of the barber shop at the mall, replying to some messages as I wait. I hear a guy yell from somewhere… “Mate, come on in! Grab a seat!” – it was Israel, who’s cut my hair a dozen times. I walk through the half open...
About Me
Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated.