Look Evelyn, Duck Dynasty Wiper Blades. We Should Get Them.: A Collection Of New Essays - Plot & Excerpts
Geoffrey stated. He turned his laptop towards me to present a photo of a woman posing on a trail in a rainforest. Geoffrey and I had been friends since working together at a printing firm years before. He was currently employed as a tech specialist for a local school and I was in my fourth and final year of studies. It was April 1996. “Why,” I asked, “would I want to go to Tasmania?” “Just to have a look,” he replied, “It’s supposed to be nice. It’s the Apple Isle.” Tasmania is at the bottom of Australia, to the right, separated from the mainland by ocean. It’s shaped kind of like an apple and its main export to the mainland is apples. It gets left off a lot of maps, which Tasmanians carry on about but nobody listens. “I’ve seen apples,” I told him. “If I could afford a holiday, I would go somewhere where they have things I haven’t seen.”
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