In 2013, I spent a month at an artists’ residency. I worked on my novel, took photos of austere buildings in the snow, and ate platefuls of homemade dessert every night with painters, sculptors, printmakers, and other writers from around the world.
One of the many…
I pass Rochester and ft. Wayne. I miss Blane. I wonder what she would be like today. I miss her.
Miss you, Blane.
If a man can’t hear you unless you speak in a way that is agreeable to him, do NOT give him the power to change the tone of the conversation. We can set the terms.