Walking The Journey Together

One moment, I was a boy with a father. The next, I was holding his lifeless body in my arms, watching the light leave his eyes. That moment didn’t just break me—it detonated something inside me. A fuse lit. A fire started. And from that day forward, nothing was ever the same.

We hit junkyards like prospectors panning for gold. I crawled under rust-free Texas cars stacked like metallic skyscrapers or half-buried in dirt. HELLO, RED ANTS.