Can we talk something else?

Can we talk about something else?

Hello.

Out there.

I live in one of those small, dusty places where the occasional passenger train slowly rolls through and the people on board likely think to themselves, who the hell would want to live here?

In fact, they're probably looking directly at my house when they're thinking it.

And that's fine with me.

Growing up, I rode the train a lot to visit my dad in the city.

It always fascinated me to see the little boys and girls waving from their junky backyards along the

way along the tracks to them i was just a shadowy head a shadowy hand waving back i wondered what

their lives were like i imagined probably poor now those are my kids, and their friends,

waving from the top of a snow-covered gravel mound in the winter,

posted up on their bikes,

filthy little fists yanking at the sky come summer,

willing that lumbering diesel belching steel dragon to let out a roar,

just for them.

And despite the way things may seem to those catching a glimpse of the little lives and little places as they pass through,

everything is just fine here, though some of those shadowy heads aboard undoubtedly doubt that.

Some, like today's subject, maybe find themselves thinking,

boy, those kids sure would be easy to steal, especially the snot-nosed boys. Who would miss them?

Well, I, for one, welcome to Dark Topic.

I'm your host, Jack Luna.

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