Swap Shop

November 8, 1998

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Most of the time I have nothing to say. At least not aloud. A few days ago I tracked down inspiration just like the “old days”. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the likes of him, and when I finally did there was no time left to share and record my experiences. It was cold in Kerrville, just the way I like it. My breath could be seen in the outside air making puffs off my cigarette seem more like five being exhaled at the same time. Gwen and I chatted with an old hippie who owns this resale store. He had the same dream we have but he’s one up because he already acted on it. He showed us pictures of some old buses that he fixed up, put some bunk beds in them, built a kitchen, and even started his own catering business. This guy had been to fourteen different states in two months! Talking to this guy alone gave me enough inspiration to get up and quit dreaming about it. The first thing I need is money, and I’ll have that covered in, well, I give myself a year. I start my new job tomorrow. Guess I better not mess up.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist