Wayseeker speaks...
What follows is not merely David Longley's review of The Winged Child that makes me feel good about my book. It is a beautiful piece of writing that makes me feel good about life. Precariously poised on our tip-toes, leaning out over the endless void, arms outstretched, hearts aflutter with anticipation, side by side atop the picnic table... We were what? 2 or 3 years old? Towel-capes diaper-pinned around our tiny necks. We knew we could fly. We just...knew it. We were so much lighter then: physically, ontologically, emotionally. Life...the whole world...was enchanted. Anything was possible. We lose that, don't we? 9 to 5's, mortgages, the weight of adulthood: it all piles on to smother the whimsy, curiosity and lightness of being. In Through the Ages by Cloud Cult, Craig Minowa sings: I'm done being stupid and worried and dramatic So I lay down my every disguise So if ever I can't see the magic around me, please take my hands off my eyes What Mitchell acc
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