Rolling overcast hills in Napa Valley. Insulation from the outside world through rows of vineyards and cottages. Bowls full of olives, expensive and innumerable cheese plates. Dozens of top shelf drinks with fancy names. All taste like money to an unrefined palette. A slice of Olympus Bacchanalia for mere mortals. I don't fit in here. Just an observer watching adults playing at frat parties dressed up as a business retreat.
11:26 a.m. - 2018-03-26
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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