Woolen mills , not Don Quixote windmills to grind grain and spin tales. But brick buildings adjacent to rivers flow to capture water power in pocket wheels that spin-- weave woolen fibers into yarn skeins, folds and flits, twists and twines around as the roulette pea by chance to fall into the waves of loose webs to be strung together, aunties forte, and knit by her needles into warm winter sweaters.
Wow. Never has anyone so clearly articulated why I write...or rather, what my body is trying to convey when she writes—so the “reader recovers the sensation of life.” That’s it!!!!!
"Now I have metaphors on the brain, which is my definition of happiness." YES!
You're welcome. I had to give you that sentence because it's truly stunning, isn't it?
Brick building refers to wooden mill built to last and still stands. Quixote can go. Realize yarn is like a tale waiting to unravel.
Nina: my extended metaphor.
Woolen mills , not Don Quixote windmills to grind grain and spin tales. But brick buildings adjacent to rivers flow to capture water power in pocket wheels that spin-- weave woolen fibers into yarn skeins, folds and flits, twists and twines around as the roulette pea by chance to fall into the waves of loose webs to be strung together, aunties forte, and knit by her needles into warm winter sweaters.
Wow. Never has anyone so clearly articulated why I write...or rather, what my body is trying to convey when she writes—so the “reader recovers the sensation of life.” That’s it!!!!!
Not wooden but woolen mill.