"Where does curiosity lead? Where does wonder guide? What visions might unfold in ideation and imagination and the threads of pleasure? I write and slow and walk into the night in the days approaching winter. Page is no longer pressure, but a source of relief. I write about memories, and visions. I write until the sunlight fades, until the pages fill, until the pen dies. I’m rambling, I think, and then keep going. "
A riff on writing, long view, wide vision, and the shifting season.
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