Antique Mall book
As I sit in a cabin on the remote, frozen shores of Lake Vermilion in far northern Minnesota, I’m wirelessly connected to the whole world via magic (and some thin copper lines). Page after page of great writing awaits to be read, while music by talented songwriters floats by in the background (Sia’s Breathe Me, Kate Bush, The Beatles, Richard Thompson).
Project Reverb has started again and Meredith has already written one of my favorite sentences on day three:
How funny that a stupid electric staircase – a modern marvel! – could come to quietly represent all of my anxieties and fears and failures in one humming, throbbing, metallic, snaggle-toothed loop.
Good writers are such a joy.
