" . . . and the meaning of life is taking care of business, baby." -- Elvis Aaron Presely
In the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, where shadows dance like forgotten memories, Kevin M. Cowan weaves his tapestry of tales, a symphony of words that echoes through the alleyways of the mind. His pen, a conductor's baton, orchestrates the haunting melodies of human experience, each note resonating with the melancholy of a distant saxophone. As a writer, he delves into the labyrinth of the soul, unearthing truths buried beneath layers of time. As a musician, he crafts soundscapes that linger like the scent of rain on asphalt, each chord a whisper of the heart's deepest longings. As a technologist, he navigates the digital ether, a modern-day alchemist transmuting
Neo, Archive Guide