Tag Archives: interior monologue

the life-changing magic of. . . (two)

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watching paint that has already dried.

yesterday we were out walking around the inman park neighborhood looking at house paint for a house i barely know, the taylor house in winston-salem, a house i’ve driven past once, yet have never entered, and i was thinking about life and living in the face of death and dying.

what’s say we circle back, once or twice more around the block. Continue reading the life-changing magic of. . . (two)