On an FTX

The boy is a trained killer in woodland-camo, rip-sole jungle boots, a kevlar helmet and a scowl. He digs shovelfuls of wet sucking mud from a hole. Drenched and miserable, he is sick as fuck of the army and all its machinations. The hole is for a sixty-caliber machine gun that will be aimed atContinue reading “On an FTX”