Mason is from Maine. He makes the most of his mornings. Mason doesn’t count minutes, he maintains in the magic of the moment.

Mason meanders around the middle way, balanced between misery and meditation. Mason’s mom might say he looks messy most of the time, but meaningful and magnanimous are words she might use to describe him as well. Mason makes music. Mason maneuvers with a memorable melody, mindful and mirthful of the seemingly minuscule things that are actually monumental. Mason manifests.