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Fragments from Floyd

Winter Walk

Winter winter comes, our daily walks don't end, but...

I’m heading off soon to reach Hollins College a bit before the day’s writers’ sessions begin. I didn’t make it to the opening speechifying last night, thinking I was involved in a local filming in town, but somewhere along the line, I got scripted out of that engagement. Tra la.

So I’ll try to get to the coffee-crumpets-and-chat before the day of hurry-up-and-sit begins. This is a see-and-be-seen event, with the remote possibility of bringing something useful back with me.

I have to remember that it was at this Roanoke Writers Conference two years ago that the vision of What We Hold In Our Hands: a Slow Road Reader took shape and four months later, became my second book. It was not any specific thing that was said as much as just being immersed in the energy of so many writers and thinkers. So, who knows?

Meanwhile, here’s another audio snippet from Slow Road Home, excerpts from a piece called Winter Walk on page 25. This aural-essay exercise will get easier and more polished over time.

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