“To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi.” - W.C. Faulkner
I spent five years in Mississippi, riding around the Delta, the Piney Woods, the Coast, the Hill Country. Pulling into and driving out of hollers and fields and getting into trouble and finding myself growing from a boy into a man. I found my Saviour there and found my voice. And now even though I’m far removed from it, I still think about those crisp Indian summers and that oppressive humidity and the bugs and the howling dogs and the laughter of the place that the world simply doesn’t get. I still don’t fully get it – but it sure got me.