The Bridge to Nowhere

She wept. The sky wept, adding volume to her tears.  Broken, her heart lay heavy against her chest.

Before her, an abstract canvas of green with a hint of light deep within.  Like the masterpiece before her, she lacked definition.  Invisible, she had to muster up the courage to extract herself from the periphery, to stand up and be counted.


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Down in my basement, lined neatly on a shelf are handwritten notebooks chronicling my life. After years of writing, the experience became more of a burden then an important part of my day so I quit writing. Five years later I took up writing again. This time it was in the form of a blog which gave me a place to hang out after I lost my job. From there my blog content morphed into writing about my general contractor experience building our house. As my life experiences grew so did my blog.

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