Digression

Yes, it is in the wake of deeds from dark places that I waddle. And it's wet. That's because it's (something like) a lake. I think. I look not unlike some drunken and/or sober Won-The-Westerner. I know you know the kind. The only difference being there’s a tremble accompanying this motivating (to write something down) …

Grappa & Godot

Note. This story took place in the early 90s. The notebook I transcribed this from isn't exact with the date. I reckon that's my bad. But I recall the play mentioned and the rest very well. Good luck. April 5, 1990 A postcard arrived exactly three days after waking up alone on the living room …