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There is a place on the edge of the Atlantic, where the tide is always cold. When I close my eyes, I stand on jagged rocks, and feel the barnacles biting at my feet. The sounds around me are crow’s wings, rusty trawlers, breaking waves. I wander barefoot through the shallows of my mind, finding pieces of sea-glass that gleam and spark in the morning sun. Every one of these could be a story, a half-formed sentence, a word or phrase or memory whose sound and feel have struck me in some way.

This site is a vessel for all the musings that flit through my head while I’m out in the fresh air, a place for stories and essays and reflections, for prose and poetry, fiction and nonfiction. It is a piece of quiet sky where my ideas can refine and resculpt themselves, gliding on the mistrals of my conscious mind. It is a haven and an archive, a shelf full of scrolls and a distant peak. It is where my writing lives.

Enough setting the scene. Who am I?

I am everything I decide to be. I am a storyteller, and I constantly look for new stories to tell. I am an historian, a poet, a wanderer, a singer, a romantic, a scientist, a friend, a writer, an inventor, an adventurer, a brother, a builder, a dilettante, an eternal child, a man with too much faith in humankind. I craft stories with my voice and my hands and my words and the soles of my feet. I am an explorer whose eyes have been opened to a vast moonlit world, giddy at the presence of the sublime. The best I can do is keep watching, and writing, and dreaming.

I want to find what adventure I can in what often seems a stagnant world. I want to spend my time under the sun, the stars, the storms, with rain and snow on my shoulders and mountains beneath my feet. I want to drink in the chaos of cities, the silence of the forests, the thrill of momentum and the serenity of standing still. I want to capture the voices and gazes and laughter and bravado and despair and hope and exhilaration of the people around me. I want to immerse myself in the humanity of the world, and share my own stories in turn.

Journey with me for a while. I expect to unearth surprising things. Or, as a six-year-old boy once said to his stuffed tiger, “It’s a magical world – let’s go exploring!”

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