My father died on Imbolc. It was, in many ways, a perfect death. Surrounded by his son and daughter and wife, breath winding down until a final cessation. It was a death far more peaceful than maybe he actually deserved. Like all Bunch men, he was of Pictish stock and
We can still disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist – Son of Baldwin, a/k/a Robert Jones Jr. When walking in open territory, bother no one. If someone bothers you, ask him to stop.