ANDY HECK BOYD
SHAYE SAINT JOHN
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The child’s first elicit sips of her grandfather’s sauna ale, can open up an unimagined world, of vodka, beer, and Sima. Oh those heady days of youth on Carshalton beeches, the epic yellow sand squeezed between my toes, stretching past a distant horizon; freedom, life without boundaries, I splashed into the liquid, salty tequila, birthplace of the gannet.
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