In 10 years.

I want to take someone to all the places I grew up  — where I drank maple syrup straight from a maple tree, where I lay in bed all day reading books about horses, where my dog got so sick I thought she would die, where I canoed under that waterfall in Canada with Grandpa, where I went to my first concert, where I knew Spanish, where I learned red wine drunk and flannel sheets make the best combination.

And ideally, I’ll be writing about music full time. Ladies and gentlemen, Woodpigeon:

One thought on “In 10 years.

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