Nothing more than an endnote, folks. I pretend to review the things I do, but I always have something more to say. And the six and a half people I write-to-read likely have me figured out.
I had a Pittsburgh friend. His Pittsburgh house fell on him when he was small; a four step brick porch on a seven year old waiting to watch the Steelers game. He used to catch fish on the Ohio River, hang posters of Mario Lemieux in his bedroom, dream about sharks and gorillas. His girlfriend won’t let him talk to me anymore, so Pittsburgh’s mine now.
My gal’s Cincinnati crew formed a beautiful backdrop for my reclamation of a city I’d never been to. The Body, as it always should, lifted me up and out of habits and patterns that I didn’t need…never needed. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is my own set of inside jokes, road trip anecdotes, and memories in photograph. In the wake of jealousy, such a nasty thing, I win.