I am intrigued by how words mean when we imply that they do,
how they tend to break up across the rock of accountability
and in the soup kitchen of the unconscious.
Do you know what I mean?
I loved the notion of story beckoning through the threshold... and I look forward to hearing more about Nancy and stories like hers.
Thanks, HQ. Stories are beckoning from the other side of the threshold these days. Perhaps they'll manage to make it through some time not too far down the road.