He carries a gun and a backpack, both slung over his broad shoulders. The woods are holy to him. I get the feeling that he is in tune here, that this ...s one of the few places in his life he feels like he fits. I often think he missed his generation — he should’ve been a frontiersmen. He should’ve lived off the land. He should’ve built a log cabin with his hands and spent his days alone in the misty mountains on the back of a horse just as solid and steady and pensive as he, while his dogs. He graciously takes them and asks what I want. I point at his wife and only say "her." They both oblige me this time. She tells him to go and take the k**s to the upstairs neighbor. As soon as they close the door behind them, she leads me to their bedroom. It is again disorganized and with no real curtains on the windows, just sheets barely covering everything. I tell her to undress, slowly. She takes off her shirt, revealing more of her pale skin and juicy tits in their bra. She. More

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