This is a picture I did not take

of a large black man in a small white t-shirt and black pants, walking out of the fog swirling around the top of Twin Peaks, walking the yellow centerline in the middle of the road because there's no traffic this early on a Sunday morning, walking downhill with his arms twisted behind his back and resting on a golf club held high on his shoulders like some kind of yoke, a toothpick splintered between his teeth.