THE LOOP BEGINS

Winter in Provnece

Winter in Provnece

[L]ife fell into a quiet pace. In the mornings I count the bell tolls while the angular winter light rakes across the crumpled bed covers. In the evenings the cry of the starlings marks 6pm as they dance to their symphony in the sky. The distant sound of a person’s footsteps on the quiet ancient streets, the soft...Read more