Perhaps these two selections read now are out of sync with the space of time and place in which I do reside…
Faulkner is brilliant, but I’ve reached my breaking point of admiration and want to walk into the clearing.
Boethius presupposes the reader’s belief in God.
And all the meager creative efforts I can muster of my own are draining into the writing of my will.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I can take “the writing of your will” two ways.
Meant as in “last and testament.”