This is my refuge but it’s also my study, my factory.  Here I build for better things to come.

Dreams are dreamed, coffee gets shared and things are at their softest and least diffused.

I work here with music on, seeking the truth, elusive as clouds and you can find me writing, playing, rewriting, waking up, cooking.

Memories find tin boxes, plastic containers with dusty lids and new ones get their little births.

Everything I’ve ever done sprouted from the walls of home.  Sitting on the floor with a guitar and an old Panasonic tape deck.  Silly thoughts pass here like fish in a stream.  Some sparkle so bright you can reach out with your hands.


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