Precipice of Self-Immolation
As the passage clears and the road begins to shimmer and shine, so do the voice’s sharp edges. As it grows louder, the path becomes more narrow, the ground harder. Take wide steps to miss the rubble and marsh. Tip-toe around land mines. Armed with tongues of steel and clenching fists we brace for battle at the precipice of self-immolation. A captured thought from our head brewer, Alia Midoun. Made with Oats and Incognito. Double dry-hopped with Strata, Sabro, and Cashmere.