We’ve burned the furniture and started on the books. Luckily there’s a small library within our palisade. The fuel trucks are still smouldering in what the map calls terra nullius. The UN is no help. We were able to clear the orphanage. The toddlers thought it a big game but the infants are not okay. Yesterday we had to repel a scavenger group near the East Gate—I think they were Australians—and one woman was helicoptered out in the night. Something’s not right, but the agent offered coupon codes for our trouble. So glad we chose the tinned goods and wild game option. The pool was not as advertised. We’ll be home Tuesday afternoon. So sorry you couldn’t come with. Next year we’ll do something family friendly—maybe Guernica or Sarajevo.
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Best paired with Столичная, icebox cold.
Todd Besant is an author, editor, publisher, reader, introvert, secret blogger, stargazer, freethinker, powerlifter, kitchen dancer, and car singer. He is a novice iPhoneographer and is keen to enhance his skills and to dip his fingers into lomography.
He is overly fond of fine pencils, cool notebooks, pocket knives, waxed canvas shoulder bags, Moscot eyeglasses, coffee, bourbon, flat caps, clothing for shorter men, and men’s grooming products–especially hair pomades, beard oils and balms, and anti-aging creams. Todd is taller online, comprehensively skeptical, and as analogue as possible under the circumstances.
He is a settler on Turtle Island. Todd lives on Treaty 1 Land that is the territories of Anishinaabeg, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota, and Dene Peoples and the Traditional Homeland of the Métis Nation, in Winnipeg, MB, a city carpet tacked to the still damp clay bed of a proglacial lake created during the Holocene Glacial Retreat.