By wineott

my name is brianott. one set of grandparents crossed the atlantic 1942. sat down in the bronx delicatessen. met at a german dance. snow-top marriage. children. cramped. crossed 3000 miles for refinery california. summer sun. carburetors. more children. convict lake. machinist. the other side farmed in ohio since industrialization. pickup truck and trailer across the great plains. somehow the beach. sand. muscles. the product of a banker and a college drop out.  i have a sister savior. seattle is my current home. the earth is my traveling sphere. a graphene on a mandrill plate slowly flying free in space. i am not bound. i am compressed. i am not gone. i am a part of what is left. and making the best.


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