Transfer #13 from Blogspot

I'm not supposed to be here


as I set this time aside to work on the book, the book, the book but I just dropped Sam off at the airport and had the most lovely drive home.  I'm not sure if there is any place more beautiful than Michigan when it's poised between winter and spring and on days like today, when the the dusty-gold cattails are frozen upright, the sky stretched out in endless weak blue brush strokes, and the air frosty and yet, somehow, holding the promise of spring – well, I wonder how I could ever want to move into some sooty corner of a city with all the people and all the chaos,  when everything I want is right here.

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