Zach Moses Ostroff
My Mentern. Part 2.
Following up Jeff Hamaoui’s post from yesterday: “Zach. Why are you going surfing? There are no waves… you’re being dumb,” my dad’s voice carried into the garage that early Saturday morning in March. As I strapped my surfboard to the car roof, I called down the garage stairs to him, “I just… have to.
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