DEATH LETTERS.

when you are young, you bask in the joke of promise... and when you grow up, you revel in the reality of tragedy.  and when neither of those things are funny anymore you slide down the slope to the middle.  There are beautiful things everywhere but they all seem to happen outside of a real grounded orbit. but in holding your breath for beauty, you end up just as dead. may the road rise to meet you wherever you are walking it Mr. Kail.