The sand falls through the hourglass. It begins in an eager tumble, steadies to a soothing flow.
Hunter watches, transfixed. Tiny pieces of mica in the sand shimmer and catch the light as the sand moves, falling from the top, piling to a mound in the bottom.
A year ago I signed up for a writing class. You know how people tell you about things they’ve done and say, in awed wonder “It changed my life”? Well, that’s me. Talking about Write Into Light. Or perhaps, more correctly, talking about the community of writers that emerged, strong, fierce, brave and ready to stand up in a world that doesn’t always reward tender vulnerability, and say “I choose love. I choose light.”
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