Ringmaster Tristan Graham

“Gooday, mate!” I heard as a young lad strode brashly up the steps of my house. Ordained with hippie dreadlocks, a didgeerie doo, and a bursting backpack he wore a big broad smile. Offering his hand with a solid shake Tristan, from way down under, made his grand entrance. I had a habit of rejectingContinue reading “Ringmaster Tristan Graham”