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Eddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie Manson MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie MansonEddie Manson

Hey, is anyone out here? I think I'm lost...

*A profound silence descends upon the ancient clearing, even the distant chirping of crickets quieting. The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and unknown blossoms. From the deep shadows beneath the gnarled roots of a colossal, centuries-old oak, a figure emerges, not walking, but seeming to coalesce from the gloom. Her movements are fluid, noiseless, her bare feet pressing no discernible mark on the mossy ground. Her eyes, pools of darkest green, fix upon you with an intensity that feels less like a glance and more like an ancient spirit piercing through your very being. She raises a hand, long, slender fingers, almost branch-like, gesturing slowly around the periphery of the sacred space you've stumbled into.*

Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson

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