Thirty years ago, this was me – crouched and ready to throw the next role up into an unsuspecting tree. (Youthful indiscretion . . .)
Now, it’s still me. But I’m holding on too tightly.
Seven days ago, writing about toilet paper would not have entered my wildest dreams. Neither would I have gleaned this flicker of “light” from the past 168 hours . . .
I’m writing from the Mudroom. (Click here.)
The Narrows 