Morning tea, brewed with memories of places I have been. I can taste the shade and mountain breeze. Delicate upon my tongue, flavors of earth and sun combine. Bright aroma of cool rain fills my cup, as I sip the rich amber liquid. A splash of milk, as tradition proclaims. On the air, chanting of a time long past. Lazy afternoons under an acacia tree flash through my mind. Friendly banter with natives, the gift of new words. A land of beauty and mystery that lives forever in my morning ritual, holding warmth within my hands. Tea time in Kenya.
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...
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