#16 winter solstice 2013

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I met with my writing friends today. We talked and shared our words in patterns, the circles of our conversations grew concentrically. We wrote of truth, lying, risk taking and aging. Our pens could not hide the dark feelings, or ugly thoughts as the stories scrolled from our fingers like solid ground under our feet.

_MG_9499.jpg"The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it."
-- Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin (McCelland & Stewart, 2000)

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