Alone in the wilderness again. The moon is a wonky orange, the sea is spilled ink, the mist blurs the edges - a fairytale stage. Hundreds of honking geese take flight with a sudden thunder of wings, unseen in the dark.
The fire is roaring happily in the wood stove. I'm in the cottage, flimsy curtains drawn against the thick, black night. This fairytale stage is set for me and my writing. This is me.
I don't even care that my car is broken and I don't know how to get home.
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