Anders struggles to match aspiration to reality. Words & Illustrations Anders Engberg This is not fun. The thought has dug in, made itself comfortable and is not going anywhere. My local trail is treating me with a warm, dappled light that finds its way through the pines and lights up a thousand tiny drops of dew all around me. It truly is a beautiful evening. The smell of forest and loam is heavy in the air as I retreat up the trail, pushing my bike beside me. The snapping twigs and pine cones under my feet make a pleasant sound...
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