The rope

[sweepthefloor]

I lay in this hammock, prone. My anterior is crushed, feels knots, and my fingers make love to each one. I kinda like it.

Where is the Eagle Scout?

When I go home, I'm going to look at pictures, and wonder about what kind of man artist could do such things.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I have just been requested to get the beer out of the shed, and then start the bon fire. That means I have to get off this rope work, I mean hammock, and stop day dreaming.

Boo hoo. It was feeling good under my weight. Swing, swing.