Just one with a view. My world is wrapped in a cloak. How can one survive? Without being subdued.Life is supposed to be a pleasure. I have yet to see this happen. Writing is an escape from the pressure of unrequitted life. If I could bury myself into my fantasy world, then I would truely be a contented woman. How does one hope when what surrounds is despair? Simply by retreating. By being enfolded by a sunset over snowcapped mountains.Wrapped in the warmth of what the imagination can supply.
Location
upstate NY