| There's not really much I can say about this man. At my nuttiest moments, I earn comparison from those who knew him. A scholar, photographer, and flasher... he died on my mother's birthday in 1982. A car fell onto his head. He was 33. THE good view is that he will always be near perfect to me. He taught me that beer is good for babies and that people don't really die, they become wind, grass, and snow. His death made this beauty possible. other BREATHING PEOPLE |
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