Blogagaard As Pyro

I tended a fantastic fire last night. All this old broken up furniture, dried branches, and a few oil paintings, all in one fantastic plume of flame rising into the hazy Minneapolis night, torching the heavens themselves. How satisfactory to create so much white heat, how the Devil himself must laugh as he churns the pot of Hell. The hickory smell, the campfire carnival of delight. A cold beer in hand and that wall, that wall of heat.

And so, let us all dance.