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August 13, 2007
In Spain there is a castle that sits high atop a cliff it has been decaying, abandoned for years. If you and I were to walk through that land on some Mediterranean day perhaps we could make that castle our home. We could make the throne room our bedroom, nights I would spend drinking and writing in the dungeon, history bearing down upon my head. We would wake almost bursting with the grandeur of our lives

Perhaps someday but for know we will be contented by grapes and lite beer spread out on the green and verdant hills of luscious America