One Inch at a Time
I want to write. I want so intensely to write.
Actually I want to live my life. My own life. I’ve never had the chance to do that before. I’m — dare I admit it — very much into middle age, and this is the first time I’ve been able to claim my own life, even my own personhood.*
I want to return to making things. I’m a potter; I work at the level of a professional craftsperson though I was forced to avoid…