There’s a moment in music history—etched deep but rarely spoken—when you realize greatness isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always fill stadiums or flash across selfies in neon lights. Sometimes, it walks quietly among us, buying morning coffee, humming to the tune of its own scars. That’s Roy Dawson, and for the real music lovers, that na

The Witch's TongueThe sky was still and heavy. I sat alone, listening to the wind slide over the rooftops like a whisper that didn’t want to be heard. That night, God spoke. Not in thunder. Not in fire. But in silence beside the television set. He gave visions. Six or seven, clear and hard as bullets. And one of them — one — was dark enough t