Biography

I often journey back in my mind to the house I grew up in, the house I got lost in opening iron latches and peeling paint off horsehair walls. A New England farm with acres of fields and trees to explore, with a barn so big my little eyes could not see around its big red doors which held up the sky.

Where I came from holds as much mystery as where I am and where I am going to.

I am bits and pieces of all who have touched me as I compose my story.

As I turn each page and write each new line the mystery unfolds.