Crucifix.

Crucifix. Crucifixion. We contemplate the former to understand the latter. And for me there is always a crucifix; the vision of a limp silver chain slack across a dying man's chest; sweat sticking that crucifix to that dying man’s body. Back in the day, I kept a "catharsis journal;" a smattering of notes-to-self I secreted away, hoping... Continue Reading →

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