The first breath of autumn was in the air, a prodigal feeling, a feeling of wanting, taking, and keeping before it is too late.
J. L. CarrNovel-writing can be a cold-blooded business. One uses whatever happens to be lying around in memory and employs it to suit oneโs endโฆ.Then, again, during the months whilst one is writing about the past, a story is colored by what presently is happening to its writer. So, imperceptibly, the tone of voice changes, original intentions slip away. And I found myself looking through another window at a darker landscape inhabited by neither the present nor the past.
J. L. CarrAnd, at such a time, for a few of us there will always be a tugging at the heartโknowing a precious moment had gone and we not there. We can ask and ask but we canโt have again what once seemed ours for everโthe way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on belfry floor, a remembered voice, a loved face. Theyโve gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass.
J. L. Carr