1983/2/27, felt pen, 11 x 14", by Chris Wayan
I dreamed that long after the limited nuclear war that brought down the Old World, I was a bird-person touring North America the slow, low-tech, low-budget way--flying under my own wingpower.
I had a good map with all the smashed cities marked. But the trouble was, all your rusty old human ruins looked the same to me...
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