Today is the twenty-fifth of March, and it is cloudy and rainy and cold, and it is a day I didn’t know was a holy day until this year, but I am welcoming it with open arms.
Driving around in Erie, Pennsylvania it is impossible not to see the lake.
Writing about theater makes me nervous. I think that’s because both writing and theater are precious to me, and using one to speak about the other is doubly vulnerable. Extra heart-unzipping and thought-exposing. Continue reading