if my newsletter gets a bit heavy at times. It feels heavy at times.
Listening to Opeth’s Ending Credits’ this morning, I bowed my head and had a good cry sitting at the Royal Blue on Houston Street, the epicenter of downtown.
There’s no getting away from it. My father was a Baptist preacher and used to deliver his sermon every Sunday morning after composing it in seclusion in his office Saturday evening. Put the finishing touches on it anyway, what he had come up with that week.
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