There was a shyness at our first meeting requiring patience, or was it distrust?


Her apprehension began to melt much like the snow surrounding us.

She appeared dismissive of my offering.

Soon, I had her eating out of my hand. If only the human race would lay down their weapons for oranges. Then, just maybe the tears of the children who are the true sufferers would dry, and scared, quivering, lips would once again smile.
The Official Kilgore of Trout of Gather wishing you peace.
Where mortar shells are oranges.


Comments: 20
I love the photos!