Kava, Condoms, and My Friend The Septuagenarian
A Strange Friday in Asheville
Sitting at the large, vacant table of my Asheville hostel, I’m feeling slightly sorry for myself. It’s a vibrant town full of interesting people and I don’t know any of them. I’ve had prolonged conversations with a couple of people at the nearby coffee shop, but neither talk rose to anything particularly meaningful.
I feel mired in t…
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