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Continue reading →: Sergei Rachmaninoff
And The Butterfly Many years ago I was a few months into a relationship. We were driving somewhere on Thanksgiving morning. A few snow flurries fell lazily to the ground. Memories are strange, but I remember those snowflakes. We were listening to classical music (WRTI ) and a piece came…
Hello,
I’m Mark
His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.
A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.
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