Bio
Rich Mallery stays pale in the summer, prefers pencils to pens and is easily distracted by ice storms. He refuses to look both ways before he crosses the street, colors outside the lines and dreams about living in a post-apocalyptic world.
He writes every free second he has.
He writes on walls, the stack of bills on his dresser, his arms- anything that has room for words.
Although he deeply loves the city of New York where he’s from, if the boroughs started burning, he wouldn’t stop dancing.
