Wednesday, March 15
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"The greatest gift of life on the mountain is time. Time to think or not think, read or not read, scribble or not scribble - to sleep and cook and walk in the woods, to sit and stare at the shapes of the hills. I produce nothing but words; I consumer nothing but food, a little propane, a little firewood. By being utterly useless in the calculations of the culture at large I become useful, at last, to myself."
 - Philip Connors
bufflehead cabin
house under a rock
a well of thoughts









  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov