Thus follows will be the account of a lonesome rider, dirty, tired, and worn from picking bar fights just to feel… something. Last Call will have the chance to evolve. To grow. Not fast like a frat boy on a tuesday night, more of a slow burn like a long burning candle on a long forgotten alter.
For now until it happens naturally Last Call can only be seen on instagram (and threads by proxy) and Notes here on Substack, visibly only by a single image and a forgotten thought both bathed in the amber glow of bar light.
Growth happens, its unavoidable. It starts off as a few words and evolves into stories. Stories that could be passed down from generation to generation, or stories penned on a bar napkin read once after closing then tossed in the trash with the empty bottles. Stories that mean something, everything, and nothing all at the sametime. Bear witness as we whisper in the smoke filled air and see what catches the attention of those around.
-Kline