yanni

Each week, letters from North Americans who live where most North Americans never go — Alaska oil-rig workers, Wyoming ranchers, Maine lobster boat captains, Montana forest lookouts.

Each week, one found receipt becomes a 3–4 minute noir-Americana ballad — 3:47 AM Wawa: one tub Half Baked, one Advil PM, one disposable razor. Whose night was that?