Kenny Fries


DanB Seattle

“I had given up hope,” she confessed. “Then one day I was by the river and I saw this tree and I noticed this tree had died in the bomb blast. It was still black and charred, but I noticed small branches beginning to grow.” Read more


Reading Rich’s words would be the catalytic event that moved my writing closer to what I wanted to write: a book in which my name, my experience, did appear. Read more