Purveyor Of Truth, Beauty and Sweat
The Marble Beneath My Feet In the predawn chill of May 1996, I stood on a smooth slab of marble at Mount Rushmore, the Black Hills cloaked in the quiet of early morning. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp granite, and the monumental faces of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt loomed above, their granite gazes … Read More
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