I just read an evocative and engaging story called Montana. It’s here if you
want to read it. It had me feeling that I’d like to go to Montana,
but then I remembered that I knew a woman – briefly – from there once. She
lived in Butte, and said the town
was appropriately named. She had strange habits, said strange things, and
caught me at the lowest point in my life. And every time I remember her I get Luke Kelly's rendition of Peggy Gordon running through my head.
So maybe I don’t really want to go to Montana.
My blog is full of pointless rambles at the moment. I know
why, but I’m not saying.
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