Summer of 1969. Two years before I came along. I look at old photographs a lot these days, trying to divine who I was, and who I may become. It helps to recall memories that are spun into words, words into paragraphs, paragraphs into passages, and — eventually — passages into a story.
Passage
Passage
Passage
Summer of 1969. Two years before I came along. I look at old photographs a lot these days, trying to divine who I was, and who I may become. It helps to recall memories that are spun into words, words into paragraphs, paragraphs into passages, and — eventually — passages into a story.