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Mark Swanson



A girl with hair to her waist walks her bike home from school. She stops at the moss-covered fountain, gathers her hair and pulls it back, drinks deeply, her silver bike leaning against her leg. Callenback's redbone bitch, tits dragging the ground, [...]

The Stand

Each year I build my tree-stand solid, usually in a white oak above a thicket of rhododendron. I check for visibility and shooting lanes. If need be, I'll clear away undergrowth to assure clean shots along the trail and down into the thicket. I'm car [...]