I wake up this morning, so missing him. As he would say, I forget to find this, say this, declare how it feels, amid the dead end streets of silent brothers. Those every day calls, conversations, repetitions, oh how i’d love to talk Trump with him. He was my best friend, the one who knew me more than anyone, linked back to my past my mother, father, John Moss, through Pam. He spanned this time.

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