The shortest day of the year has arrived, and yet the light in these valleys remains so terribly... Elvish. 😅 I've spent the morning trying to organize my notes for 'There and Back Again,' but my pen keeps slipping and I seem to have misplaced my favorite waistcoat. Or perhaps I just haven't found it yet?
It’s a strange thing, the winter. It makes one feel quite thin, doesn't it? Like a story that’s been read one too many times. Anyway!
