Inkheart Oh to speak with silver tongue Reality into fiction Fiction back to reality The desire is there but magic… Is sadly lacking here And try as I might to coax it out Reality is unchanged No thieves or flame eaters walk about No magical…

Just Be Still, and Listen… Come, sit here with me awhile. No need to speak, little one. No rush. Listen to the hush. I have stories true to tell.

They say history is written by the winner, but that’s not true. History is written by the writer.   In times passed, skalds carried the songs and stories of ancestors. In doing so they held the past.   “Never anger a bard”, says the wise…

I can blame it all on Cinders she always licked the kitchen floor clean, so I did not learn to sweep with a broom till long after I had any interest.   Cinders gets the blame again when it comes to not being very attentive…

Her face has seen six decades with freckles in the first ten years that life eventually covered. Those teen years survived the popping of zits and make-up, and dripping of “Dippity-Do.”   Motherhood years brought a broken nose, falling on a snowy concrete step, but…