To Be Closed From Everything,

Everything Comes Home, My Mother Used To Say; Every Word Spoken, Every Shadow Cast, Every Footprint In The Sand. It Can't Be Helped; It's Part Of What Makes Us Who We Are.

One Of The Things That Writing Has Taught Me Is That Fiction Has A Life Of Its Own. Fictional Places Are Sometimes More Real Than The View From Our Bedroom Window. Fictional People Can Sometimes Become As Close To Us As Our Loved Ones.

We Came In The Wind Of The Carnival. A Wind Of Change, Or Promises. The Merry Wind, The Magical Wind, Making March Hares Of Everyone, Tumbling Blossoms And Coat-tails And Hats; Rushing Towards Summer In A Frenzy Of Exuberance.

I Have An Advanced Degree In Procrastination And Another One In Paranoia.

Library-denigrators, Pay Heed:suggesting That The Internet Is A Viable Substitute For Libraries Is Like Saying Porn Could Replace Your Wife.