I don't feel particularly prodigal, nor do I really wonder if I'm a lie coming home to roost - I'm past all that.
The poetry has dried up as of late, so here's a bit of prose about my last week in Durham.
It's true: we've co-authored a masterpiece. Our imagery, our perfect symmetry can't be matched - we moved as one entity, attached for so long.
Silently, slowly, it crept in to complete the snow globe illusion - begging Petersburg to eat its heart out.