on the fridge door: June 2016

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Bin It: Well met, fellow traveller. May I offer the sharing of water? Take a long drink from my wineskin. What shall you call me? To give a name is to offer definition — and worse yet, power over such as I. Still, I have worn many names, some given, some taken. For now, you may call me Mhor Gunn, the Great Fire. It is my current nom de voyage. I am a storyteller wandering without map or compass, seeking tales old and new — some remembered clearly, others half‑forgotten. Are they true or false? That is for you to decide. We all carry truths. But what is truth? An unchanging law? The loudest voice? The one who refuses to stop speaking? I walk in the space between myth and memory, drawing images and runes in the sand. There was a time when the best place by the fire was saved for the storyteller. Come. Sit. Listen to my tales.

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