By John Bryant I write in order that the ornery old bastard and toothless schizophrenic might be more welcome in my life. The man who calls three times a day to give voice to his shattered mind. I met him at Advanced Autoparts. I’d bought a brake light, put the new one in, was about [Read More...]
from
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/goodletters/2016/09/the-smell-of-black-mold/
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