I've been sitting in the pulpit for eight hours in -9 degrees, thinking. It's quiet all around. I'm concentrating and looking around. Waiting for the right moment to be here. I look in front of me and hear a snap, a thump, and then a bruised shoulder. It was a wild boar. I walk over to him and see paint on the ground. Then I put the fragment in the vise and take off my hat. I take him by the runs and drag him to the car.
Should I feel like a winner or a killer?
/2022