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Kale and I are parked on a gravel road, sitting in his car, enjoying a cigarette. When and where are irrelevant. We're leaning back admiring the stars through our open windows. There is a 12-pack between us. It was a good talk. I tell Kale, 'I do want to be a writer someday. I want to tell your story.' Without looking away from the night sky, he replies, 'Do it. You gonna tell the truth?''Yeah.''How much truth?' he asks. 'All of it.' I answer. He pauses. Still gazing up at the stars, he exhales his smoke, 'Well..., that's the question, Johnny. How much truth is there?'