"going to the edge and back, one word at a time."
There was this boy. He grew up in the rural South. He drank Pepsi Cola from glass bottles. He ate Nabs. He worked in tobacco fields at the age of twelve. He dreamed. His imagination was his escape. It was his portal. At a young age, he knew other realms existed. You just had to …
As Thanksgiving week dawns upon us, I think back over the past several months. I have seen things and people around me go from being oblivious, to being scared, to being quarantined, to being put on lockdown, to being full of rage, to being opened up in stages, to operating at some type of face-masked …
If you live in the United States and think that child slave labor only exists in other black market countries, you obviously have not visited the South in summer times of the past, nor should you because the humidity sucks, gnats constantly fly around your face and stick to the underside of your nostrils, and …
