I like campfires. I don’t go camping much. Actually, I don’t go camping at all. But I like french fries even though I’ve never been to France… (and before you email Frank, I looked it up, they’re Belgian)
Yes, I may be exposing my egoism… why not? It needs sunlight and air to live just like a lot of other mossy things. My ego and I have long conversations about us. It’s our favorite topic to interact on. Why do campfires always have to be ghost story territory? Why can’t a squirrel make into that genre?
