My Dad, Montreal, September 1982 on a motorcycle trip. Only twenty-three here, but already married four years, and already a father. Makes me wonder sometimes what the hell I’m doing. Don’t think there was ever a time he wasn’t invincible. Nor will there be, and thats why hes my Dad.
Happy Fathers Day Dad.
My grandmother told me this is where I was, after seeing some drawings I made. It was the first time I saw how transparent a thought and a few lines could make me. You don’t ever wanna go showing your cards.
Anyhow, It was years ago. I just happened to be thinking about it, and her.