Hey man,
what’s up?! I’m sitting here, in a bakery, full of people at lunchtime on an
ordinary Thursday. I’m reading one of your notes, it’s about Neal, Kerouac’s boy.
Before that let me tell ya, yesterday my friend and I grabbed some beers and
went for a walk at dawn. We talked, laughed and discussed life. We went to grab
to some more, but we didn’t find any bar open, not even one to help us with soda and
brandy, so I went home.I went home, my friend went his. I scratched my balls on
my way, it me made me horny. I got home hard on. I got to bed, the same.
Today, I
woke up to work, and now, I’m here writing to you to say I cried about Neal,
about yours, the last from Neal.
I never
meant to cry reading from you. Reading you.
H.
Ravelli.
