I was raised in the wilds of the south. Lightning storms and hurricanes created the playpens of my youth, and in the summers, I used to spend all of my time dodging horseflies in a golden river, catching fish and snakes with my bare hands, swinging from vines, and falling out of magnolia trees.
In the dawn of my adolescence, my family took me on a journey across the United States, from the white sands of Pensacola, FL, to the razor’s edge of the Hell’s Backbone in Utah. We finally landed in Marin, CA, where lotus eaters tried to make city folk out of us (but miserably failed.) I currently live in Kyoto, Japan, working as a writer and dream-smith.
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by Alex Hurst
"It is the shop of memories. Its stores are what moments we collect through our lives, those which gather dust or glory on the shelves of our mind. Some are forgotten, some boxed away; some touted as the very best of our life. Every article has meaning, every clipping, sensation. The store changes for each person. What will you see on its shelves? What will you find in its intimate interior?"
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