This is the house my father built, and where I lived for the first seventeen years of my life. It is gone now, torn down to make way for a suburban mega-mansion. I return there in memory and in dreams. I wrote my first book in my room on the second floor, scrawling the story on West Virginia Brick notepads.  I spun a tale of the twins who lived in the attic and had tantalizing secrets. The Homco Lab Papers. Privately published for only the stuffed animals who lived in my room.

Yes, they do exist. I posted this last year.  Someone has yet to win the contest–so where is this guy? Big hint–walk around Santa Fe and LOOK UP!