At End Of Road
You are standing at the end of a road before a small brick building. Around you is a forest. A small stream flows out of the building and down a gully.>how did I get here?
That doesn’t matter. You’re here now.
>but this isn’t where I want to be
I’m not concerned with what you want. Now pay attention:
At End Of Road
You are standing at the end of a road before a small brick building. Around you is a forest. A small stream flows out of the building and down a gully.>can I go home now?
—AdventureOne Pot Meal)
While Crowther and Woods are both alive (or were the last time I checked), I can’t help but think of T.S. Eliot writing in “Tradition and the Individual Talent”:
Some one said: “The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.” Precisely, and they are that which we know.
We’re drawn to activities that invite us to grow, by trying and trying again, because…
I had a great time playing Hastings in this audio adaptation of a classic Agatha…
On the White House website, there is no official record of about 80% of President…
This is what we have to look forward to, as a torrent of AI-generated slop…