ryderhamiltonjones

There’s something irresistible about a small town setting. The quiet streets: laced with liminal dread. Friendly neighbors whose veneers...

Why am I afraid of the future? Why be fearful of fickle nature, time, human will, and my own will? These things, after all, come from the...

There in the ground his bones reside Aged now beyond a thousand tides Knowing well his numbered days In life he hid his love away There...