I can still remember the first time I walked through Studio C. It’s raw in nature, but instantly feels like home. Something like your grandmothers living room meets the shed in your backyard that you and your high school friends would smoke crappy pot in. Time slips away, and you surrender your senses to the art.
 Poets, songwriters, and storytellers alike often relate the blossoms of Spring with earthly renaissance. The opalescent teal of a cumulus sky, parted at the horizon, giving way to verdant emerald flora.
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AuthorTrack Jockey Number 9 Archives
July 2020
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