You will not suffer for volunteers.
I'm probably not one of them. I've done that kind of thing, before, and I sincerely wish you luck, but my own dance card is fairly full.
You will not suffer for volunteers.
I'm probably not one of them. I've done that kind of thing, before, and I sincerely wish you luck, but my own dance card is fairly full.
Sometimes things that appear shallow bring about the deepest truths: if you take effort not to ignore what you're looking at, what you're hearing at the moment, if try not to ignore all your other senses. Suspension of disbelief is crucial, ESPECIALLY if you want to write something - even non-fiction. Or else, how do you expect your readers to do the same and believe your words or least consider them, if even you yourself cannot do that little trick?
> John Kimble reads the final two stanzas of the children's poem "Spring Morning," by AA Milne, to his kindergarten class