It's officially tomorrow, and I am still up. Every breath I take in sears my nostrils with the scent of the balsamic red wine syrup that has been cooking for 1,000 years on my stovetop. It finally reduced to a sticky syrup, but I think it will go hard in the night. It will go hard, and not in a good way. I am delirious.
Here is a photo of a bull:
Look at him. Just look. What a brute.
Through The Trees
1 hour ago