W. C. McClure can be a difficult one to track down, given time, space and other universal shifts that might be afoot, which is most disconcerting when she disappears in plain sight. If cornered on the subject, she claims merely that she’s looking for something.
Indoctrinated in the secret descriptive arts by the legendary minds in a remote snow-swept world, W is careful to exercise her literary skills only for the sake of good. It is often a razor’s edge.
Thanks for reading!
A heartfelt thanks, and safe skies to you, from the far side of dreams.
2 thoughts on “W. C. McClure”
Love Duck Rising! I remember staring at ant hills and all the activity when I was a boy for hours thinking my life would never be like that. Even though there is a strange peace in the collective mind of their business, it was not how I wanted to enjoy my life. Duck Rising reminds me that I have gotten off track and need to revisit air, space, flowers unfolding, and time in slo-mo.
I’m so glad Duck Rising was able to awaken that memory for you! It is too easy to forget, as we speed through this life, to honor the moments all around us, happening at nature’s pace.