"As night began to crawl like a wet dirty cat across the soul of Tijuana, Dan danced. On and on he danced. Out of his wig, sure. But it was perfect." - C. Bukowski
"As night began to crawl like a wet dirty cat across the soul of Tijuana, Dan danced. On and on he danced. Out of his wig, sure. But it was perfect." - C. Bukowski