I’d one day love to spin a tale from yarn weaved from that which brings me joy, peace, and serenity. But the fount of creativity is unfortunately better fed by the spring from which flows my miseries, misfortunes, and unforgiving hatreds. G.M. Manzi ruminates the everyday introspection without sugarcoating or special dressing. Read like a friend sharing from his heart on a muggy summer evening in the back yard, pipe in hand, mesmerized by the rising smoke and long pauses between thoughts. He counters rough memories with softer moments and hindsight. Sit back, prop up your feet, and soak in the significant minutes.