A writer naturally befriends other writers. Goes with the territory. Personally, I always enjoy these relationships. Share a little, learn a lot. I can’t recall feeling challenged by others who write.
Four mud-sculpture statues with expressionist faces of clay – one male, three female. Full lips. Wide-open demonstrative eyes; their gaze frozen. All hankering to speak out. But they cannot.
The Russian political crisis concerns everyone. But not according to the authorities. It manifests itself in a clear movement towards an even more authoritarian and controlling government.
A drive north, up the central coast, never fails to inspire. The air grows dramatically fresher. Cleaner. Crisper. Drifting a tad closer to nature. Reinvigorates my spirits. Rejuvenates my soul.