Cousin Sam.

Lying atop a journal that is not mine, there is a picture of my cousin Sam dressed in a brown woolly jacket squatting beside a blue old rusty dumpster. He is looking at the floor but his expression is a disparate one. Though he looks lost and upset, I know that he isn’t really all that because the photograph was taken in Melbourne where he was holidaying. Although I think he looks a whole lot more good-looking with his seriousness, even if he’s faking it. My cousin Sam is my cousin Sam. I think.