“I don’t wanna…!” The voice sounds like a petulant, whiny four-year-old. But there’s no four-year-old here. There’s just me. That’s MY voice. My inner four-year-old complains loudly, annoyingly, through anything she...
Two years ago, in the depths of what I didn’t recognize then as a dangerous case of burn-out, I had this crazy image. I pictured my busy, exhausted self falling on the sidewalk and cracking open, only to find dozens… hundreds… thousands of words...
