Friday, August 15, 1975 The fog’s in, and I can barely see the street below: Feels like I’m living inside a huge cotton ball. Strike One: I finally saw Gina again yesterday, but it wasn’t good. I’d been calling and leaving … Continue reading
Friday, August 15, 1975 The fog’s in, and I can barely see the street below: Feels like I’m living inside a huge cotton ball. Strike One: I finally saw Gina again yesterday, but it wasn’t good. I’d been calling and leaving … Continue reading