It was pure magic.
The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019 begins. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion.
Friday, June 28, 2019
At Twilight
The other evening as I was driving back from Princeton just after sunset, two young deer crossed the road in front of me. They jumped the split rail fence that borders the greensward near the woods at the edge of the river. As they stepped onto the grass, they disappeared into a mist that rose suddenly.
It was pure magic.
The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019 begins. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion.
It was pure magic.
The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019 begins. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion.
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