He is not inviting. A bottom dweller, feeding on death and decay in the dark. At first he is only a twitching, tugging, gnawing sensation of menace at the end of some twine. Then, lifted inch by inch, finger over finger into the murky green fringe of surface water light, he materializes as a, Read More
One thousand two hundred and twenty-eight generations ago, my ancestor lay curled in a shallow depression scratched from the soil of a low African cave, listening to the night. Fear and Hunger waged a Great Battle in him. Fear was mighty and terrible in its strength, neither reasoned nor conceptual. It was real; a knowing in my ancestor,, Read More