“Nephew,” he said, slapping a wrinkled map on the kitchen table. “We’re going to see how the world builds its edges.”
By now, Chester had adopted a seagull he named “Gregory.” Gregory was missing a foot and had no loyalty. We landed at Harbour Island, where the sand is the color of a melted strawberry milkshake. Chester wept. uncle chester's world beach tour
The sand squeaked under our feet like rubber ducks. Chester became obsessed. He started shuffling dramatically, composing what he called the “Squeak Symphony in B Major.” A lifeguard asked him to stop. Chester responded by building a sand sculpture of a kangaroo wearing sunglasses. It was, against all odds, excellent. “Nephew,” he said, slapping a wrinkled map on
“I’ve died and gone to a rosé commercial,” he said. ” he said