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In order to escape this maddening pandemic quarantine I went on one of my routine city-park hikes yesterday (photos here) but at no point did I come upon KJ Apa bulging in a stream-bed and for that, now, I feel cheated. Deeply cheated! Course, if I had, neither KJ nor I would have been coming home anytime soon -- pretty sure we'd become the gay porn version of that Ben Foster / Thomasin McKenzie movie Leave No Trace. Foraging for sustenance, living peacefully, plainly, among the shrubs. But porny like. And no it didn't strike me until now that Debra Granik's serious dramatic picture Leave No Trace needed itself a gay porn parody, but now, this morning, I have seen the light. Thanks, KJ.
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