The rumble of distant thunder roused me from a restless sleep. I turned to look at the clock: three forty-seven. A few minutes later, the rumbles became bone-jarring cracks and flashes of blue and white light lit up the room. The lightning was, and is, reminiscent of the strobe lights used in rock concerts when I was a teenager. It’s just after four in the morning and I’m up for the day.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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