There’s nothing quiet like a crackling fire on a cold winter night. It reaches down to the soul of the primal man, … takes him back through the eons to the distant past when a man sat around the fire at night roasting the meat from his kill earlier in the day to nourish himself and his family, … to win perhaps one more day of life from the harsh world around him. Today we have refined and dignified the same flames and use them more for decoration than a life’s necessity, … but deep down inside lurks the ancient man, … and he still struggles to come out.

Fire. A man thing, … and a friend.

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One year ago.
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