Mount Pappy Vienna, Virginia
A few years ago, I decided to pick up an old acoustic guitar from my college days. So much life had passed since I last
wrote a song. I tried out a few barely-remembered chords and felt as if a long-lost pet had suddenly returned to paw at my front door. The music, no matter how ill-played, wanted back into my life. Soon, words shaped by the years began to emerge.
So, now, here I am again.
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