Deconstructing and Writing

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The truth is simple: art demands honesty. We can only create what we know, and what we know depends on what we have experienced, witnessed, and researched.

The Day God Died, Chapter I: Continued

“I discovered I hated him and his kind. I hated his affluence, his expensive clothes, his chiseled looks, and the arrogance he was born to. But most of all, I hated the power he held over me, his assumption of authority, and the truth of his superiority.”

A Nod To Derry’s Son

A nod to him whom attended Lady Derry’s autumn tempests, gyrating orange and red and yellow leaves, dancing alongside stone-walled pastures, caroling in voices divine.

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