Letters from Paradise

Well, okay, Letters from Chautauqua. But I love it here. I haven’t updated as much because, well, nothing happens in paradise, does it? That’s rather the definition of paradise: always the same loveliness. But tomorrow is the trip home, and to always the same… unloveliness? No, that’s not what I mean. But there will be Continue reading Letters from Paradise

qotd

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. — Henry James