Come in, Friend. I think I may call you friend if you wander the grove at the wild end of the bayou. Come in, come in. The weather is atrocious but if you wait a moment. Come in. Sit. Let me get you a drink, something cool or warm as you require. No, that is not my chair, that is the comfortable chair, and you are my guest. Stop a while and tell me why you come to this grove of ancient oaks, along the rump of a bayou cut of long ago from its source, here at its wild end where the anhinga rules, and the wild birds come. If you are on the path here, then we are on the same path, and we surely have much to talk about.

Marcus Truásóngr


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