Asheville (2)

With all the birds in the airplane engines, the love and all the late night laughter, the barbecued quail thrown up in the back yard of the blue ridge mountains and sun burnt blood red mimosas, this is the life that writes itself.

Yonton Mehler Photo

What I'm trying to say is, business trips are always tough to write through due to lack of time and having to keep my clothes pressed sharp, but this one doesn't have to be written, only transcribed. 

Just one more minute, off to New Jersey with a little luck, then I'll sit down and let the bird out of the plane engine and onto the paper, if you know what I mean. 

(I was going to be done with the birds, but then one gave its life for me to have one more night in Asheville, we drank a toast to it last night and I got a new necklace made out of a stone.)