Trucks are prohibited...but you are always welcome
Monday, May 2, 2011
I have dirt and grit and mud on my face, caked in my eyes so I can no longer see the light. I wipe it away with equally muddy hands, wiping and wiping and never any cleaner for my troubles. I want so desperately to have my face cleaned, but I know before I can I must wash my hands. If only I could see to wash them.
I know this may make no sense to you, but I have no other way to describe what I am feeling.