I’m in a book. It’s called The Art of Attention. And this is the ride. Of the moment. Every man for himself. And every woman for herself. And every they for theyself. When my father almost died. He left me, with no warning. Maracana tickets and a card saying "humility". A week to slice a finger off. He had to find a mirror and stare at himself for an hour. Without it, he couldn’t see. But when he did, it showed exactly what he should have done. And what he was waiting for. The answer made him ask again. If he should go in and out. Of his limousine. So everything you need to know about me. Is just down the road. By the fire. Letters from the war. ICU identity theft. Then we’ll begin. To move in. Take it all. Do you want us to take you with us? Never mind.

James Brown x Dom Roberts x Sam Roberts.