Sometimes a man needs to breathe.
To breathe with lungs, sure, but that's not all—to breathe, to drink it down with everything, with eyes and tongue and feet.
Tonight I'm breathing.
I'm looking out onto a serene, gorgeous lake, and the air is so fuggin' clean and crisp that it feels like it might burst in my hands. I keep clapping them together but I can't catch any of it.
It looks like this:
Except it's dark out and there's no tree on top of my view. And shit, fine, let's split hairs: it's a completely different lake than the one in the picture. That's why I said it looks like this picture. For crying out loud.
Goddamnit.
I was just trying to show you a pretty picture and tell a pretty story and you had to get all CSI on me about the lake picture.
Over and out.
