The only light is the slight flicker coming from a dying bonfire, a refuge of warmth amidst the cold winter darkness. The noise of rhythmic banging on steel drums resonates through the air, breaking any kind of tension. He sits on his porch. He does not own, nor need, a chair. This man has done very little with his life, and for whatever he has achieved, he has never waited long enough to receive any recognition. His name is Jen Hood.
9y ago