Journal Entry; Amelia Court House, Virginia; April 2, 1865
Eye bleary, battle weary; siege surrounds our last nights, our final flight to Danville.
Cricket rhythm far and faintly fills the ravine to the east; Cheshire moon to the west; dying campfire crickcrackles at my side.
April, my favorite month before the storm of war; the spring rains of restoration. Tonight, the scent of approaching rain reaches me, quenches me; satiates me, yet the belly rumbles, grumbles, drawing a ration of only three cracker crumbles since last week.
No food, no fuel, so burn the train at Danville. If I cannot ride home, I will walk the sixty miles due north from this little courthouse. Going home soon, it seems, to the Virginia hills or the vault of heaven.
Xnamozinechurchbeneathfrontstaircase
Your words, your writing, the collages, the thoughts,the creativity...I could go on & on. your phrasing, the emotions felt, the perspectives, the insights - the refection these bring...such sadness that we need to acknowledge, not just at this point in time, but in human responses-the actions taken.
ReplyDeleteOne of my hopes, my wishes is that you know how powerful your reach is - with your writing & art.
Sir, I am at a loss for words to do your project justice.
Personally I love it, and am lost in the magic you have created-therefore never the same after partaking of your creation
I salute you. Cheers!
Jo, I thank you deeply, completely for your support over these months. Due to deadlines, I am near the end of this project; otherwise I will never get the actual art parts finished by September. I do think I might continue the story, as it allows me to step back into the past to see the present more clearly.
ReplyDeleteand i hope that it is the virginia hills, for i want this story to continue...
ReplyDeleteAs enrapturing as always, dear one..as always.
ReplyDelete