I don’t remember a time when church wasn’t a part of my mother’s life, and I don’t remember a time when it was ever a part of my father’s, and perhaps in searching for simple explanations that was the problem. Sundays were my mother’s favourite day of the week, days we two...
He was stocky, naturally dark skinned, determined and hardworking. Like his own grandfather before him, his hair fell out early and he looked older than he ever was. But underneath his skin was the blood of a red-dreamer. And he bought into the next sure thing with every penny he had.  ...