Arthur Pennʼs ʼ67 B͟o͟n͟n͟i͟e͟ ɑ͟n͟d͟ C͟l͟y͟d͟e: Two wild souls searching for something they
couldn’t quite find. There’s a sadness beneath their fire, like they’re running from a world that doesn’t understand them. It stayed with me—a quiet ache that’s hard to shake.
