Books are time machines. Words are ink and energy fusion. What a great week: new pages written; familiar stories re-visited.
The mind is a place. Well-worn paths and unmapped territory.
Imagination’s color wheel is fired and fueled by the abundance of a summer evening.
Mood and tenor of the tale defined by noir glimpses and accidental glances.
Meanwhile the Writer Elkhound recommends I continue trekking through Middle Earth.