I know the man’s voice with its lecture hall delivery and resonance. His white hair, with a hint of wild to it. His jutting lower jaw. Here in PEI, nearly the other side of the country the odds of running into an acquaintance should be slim. Yet, despite probability forcing doubt on recollection, I know…
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Vintage 1 – A Work in Progress
Once upon a time, I was an artist. Thanks to my TBI, I seem to be again. There’s a lot that the TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) has affected negatively, and we can get into that some other time, but the one bright spot is art. As soon as I realized that the primary impact was…
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