Where does our influence end and personal passion begin?
A spool of twine meant to bind also helps us let go.
A niece's visit prompts a review of my wardrobe and our bonds.
Our shortest day reminds us to look and listen to the dark.
Earl Hunt's death leaves his corner a little quiet.
Where has our listening gone?
Living inside a book to live in the world again
There are stories in the strips we pass over.
Who or what do we wrap up for?
Walking, like writing, comes through me, not from me.
Making the library public again.
I was someone who took full advantage of awareness months. I backed into it like many others, speaking up for a young husband diagnosed with leukemia.