Our little river was no more than a trickle up here, but there were pools. I spotted tiny fish darting above their sandy floors, before darkness claimed such details, and wondered how their ancestors had come so far from the sea. Did they have tiny, cold-hearted gods who spoke in voices of the tide?
[writing] Progriss riport
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[links] Link salad says, "Son can you play me a memory, I’m not really sure how it goes.”
Never mind. LiveJournal is giving me the world's most useless error message today: When I try to edit the entry, it then goes into some kind of…
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[links] Link salad for a rainy Solstice Saturday
In which our collaborate novel Our Lady of the Islands, written by me and Shannon Page, finds a home Jade par Jay Lake — A French review…
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[links] Link salad could be another Lincoln
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Tolkien — Daniel Larison is very unhappy with Peter Jackson. I pretty much agree with his points, though I am…
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