It’s Bruce Duluoze.
Born somewhere. Lives somewhere else. Who knows where he’ll die?
He might be an old man. He might be short. Maybe he has an eye patch and a beard.
He once climbed a mountain. Maybe twice. Maybe just metaphorically. Folk singing and blues guitaring are interests. Towards the end of life, he may wish he had been in more plays. He might think about something long ago. He might say “fuck it all”.
Maybe someday I’ll put up a picture of myself, though I cannot promise it will look like me.
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