Anna’s gift is that she somehow writes stories about your life. Even if you don’t know what “government cheese” is, she taps into your memories and you recognize yourself in her tales.
This one is something quite special. If you look deeply, past the beauty of her imagery, you will discover universal meaning that speaks to any place or time — but most especially to your here and your now.
Now I was always advised that silence is golden, and I’d be best off in the end to keep my mouth shut and my thoughts to myself and behave like a lady, lest I be thought a wild woman. Well, I’ve been thinking on that good ol’ advice, and I’ve come to my own conclusions.
Winter falls hard here. It comes while we’re sleeping, like a thief in the night, and steals the blues from the heavens and the greens from the cedars, leaving a black and white film of a world that replays for far too long. We’ve seen this flick before, and we know how it ends. It all reminds me of the Mother Mountain in her current gray steel and silent reverie. She’s absolute and raw and real, like that old black and white film. She tells it like it is. She wears that silent gray…
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