On Beginning a Pilgrimage
The rain hits the windshield, as I look out upon the French countryside— fertile, rustic, quaint. I think back over this month and consider the contrasts that mark this month. Just a few days ago, I was working long hours…
The rain hits the windshield, as I look out upon the French countryside— fertile, rustic, quaint. I think back over this month and consider the contrasts that mark this month. Just a few days ago, I was working long hours…