For echo is the soul of the voice exciting itself in hollow places.
For echo is the soul of the voice exciting itself in hollow places.
The desert could not be claimed or owned - it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by stones, and given a hundred shifting names before Canterbury existed, long before battles and treaties quilted Europe and the East ... All of us, even those with European homes and children in the distance, wished to remove the clothing of our countries. It was a place of faith. We disappeared into landscape.
The past is still, for us, a place that is not safely settled.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories