Hurgh, the trail.

Jiminy crickets, my people.

A morning letter, to you!

Dearly Beloved,

Good morning! I hope you are well. I am sitting in the Apple Pie Bakery in Delaware Water Gap.

Waiting

Well… It appears I am on vacation, my delightful scallions. One of the horrible things about traipsing through the woods with no income is that, eventually, you must come to a stop to get money in order to feed your face.