A small part of a much larger picture.
Father. Wayfarer. Nemophillist.
Derelict “It’s always there. Just beneath the surface. You can try to run, but it will hunt you down. Tackle you. Turn you over, sink its claws into you, grab you by the throat, and demand that you speak. Its name is Beauty.”-Anonymous The scene is Firestorm books, a small anarchist bookstore in Asheville North… Continue reading Derelict
Hellfire and Fuzzy Blankets
My pen does acrobatics in my hand. My feet tapping in neurotic fashion under the table like I’m a drummer in a punk band. The fluorescent light always oppressive in these classrooms; beats down with unyielding religious fervor and resolve. I’m kicking myself for not having had a 2nd cup of coffee. I can’t stop… Continue reading Hellfire and Fuzzy Blankets