Dear Friends, Readers, Sympathizers, Things are beginning to change. The election is finally over (mostly), and the doomsday outlook of the last few years is loosening its grip. Here in my neck of the woods the awareness of...
The Slow Burn of Fiction
It is 8:00 am on a Sunday morning in the Garonne Valley of France. I lie in bed drinking coffee and listening to overlapping church bells, some from the village up the hill, other from across the river. The birds, swallows and mourning doves, are...