I was driving home on a two-lane blacktop in Wyoming when I drove over a bridge. Down below was a river in a serene setting. I wished I could have taken the time to pull over and disconnect from the world for a couple of hours. The trouble? I don’t fish. I don’t like to eat fish. I don’t like the smell of fish. I will never be a fisher.
Too bad for me, isn’t it?
ck's days 