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  • Writer's pictureClarke Wallace


When I’m in my office picking up  where I left off from the night before,

 I see trees –  mostly oak and maple. I live on a hill viewing them from

partway up their trunks.

        After working in Montreal, I spent a year in France. In the

Dordogne. I wanted to be around those who spoke French and

return a bilingual Canadian.

This wasn’t my sole reason for going. I hoped to write a book.

A novel.

        It turned out I had a better chance of writing one than becoming

fluent in French.

Writer’s comment: I returned when the year was over to live on

the hill surrounded by the same trees. I look out seeing the same

view I saw when camping here overnight as a kid.

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