Musings of a Luddite

When dirt was in the process of no longer being home. The sky no longer residence of the great creator. The ocean no longer an edge of a mystery.
Home begins with whooshing and mama’s voice through water. It begins with her breathing, a rhythm like her heart beating. Home begins in water.
I have indeed felt that expanse - when my feet bare felt earth soft and cold underneath. When my skin lie on hot white sand. When I watched the sun…
A dream and a letter to Gen Z, Millennials and everyone else
Pass the collard greens. Pass the biscuits and the gravy. Then bring the extras next door.
Parched in the desert, we thirst for that which we forgot exists, but it's our souls that know, and our souls that moan, and our souls that are calling…