“What is all this stuff?” George leaned into the workroom, one hand on the door frame, afraid to step beyond the door sill and into what looked to him like an explosion in a junk yard. Continue reading
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Sunday Morning
I lift my paddle for a moment, hearing but not noting the drip of water that slides off its smooth, blond curve. My canoe slices through the morning cool, bisecting and self-healing the waters as I pass. Below the dark water, silent lake grass caresses sand and small, secret pebbles. Continue reading
Free Association Writers: Saturday Morning Edition
She hunches over the library table, and rubs planed fingers over an already-slick forehead. Canadian forests are burning in the northwest, and the haze is thick, humidity high from last night’s rains. Her other fingers wander back and forth across a college-ruled composition book, cheap pen jagging with arrhythmia. In search of inspiration, but there is none to be found. Continue reading
Self-care Thru Word Salad
Impression management. Measured words. Think before you write. Continue reading