A story is not like a road to follow … it's more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you. [Alice Munro, Selected Stories, 1968-1994]
Rare to find words that read like the voice[s] in my head. Okay, I know, but it had to BE said.
Just imagine you are dying tomorrow. Everyday. You will be much kinder to the world, there will be more love in you. That way. [Minhal Mehdi]
I’m seeing the great wisdom in this notion.
I have a habit of letting my imagination run away from me. It always comes back though . . . drenched with possibilities. [Valaida Fullwood]
I love you, Currie