underneath it all // portland

one of the last warm nights in mid of october: it was still t-shirt weather and almost-summer air. running wild and throwing rocks
and watching the last sliver of sun behind the hill. sand in our shoes but it felt so right and we balanced on the train tracks until
the light was gone. we ended the night at don poncho’s: we covered eight tacos with picante, split them three ways and ate them
under the sway of a million pinatas.

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