I'm sitting on Sam's van. It's a converted green Ford Econoline SuperVan from 1973 that he parked on a small cliff overlooking the New Zealand sea. The inside has enough room for us both to comfortably hang out. I'd say there's room for a third, even fourth person, if they don't mind being a bit crammed in here. I'm sitting on his couch that, as he told me, doubles as a bed when folded the right way; he sits on the spinning passanger's seat, tuning his guitar. The van smells like coffe, obviously, since that's what we're having, but the scent feels almost infused into the van, like a part of its structure. He passes me a small bowl of trail mix and asks me if i'm comfortable. How could i not be? it's a beautiful, cozy place.


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