IN WHICH LIZ IS GLAD TO GET HOME
oh, it’s an insidious feeling…it’s the same sort of thing that happens sometimes when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff or driving. The urge to hurl yourself off a precipice without looking back. Can you fly? I think not. Although, in this particular instance, the feeling is more one of NOT taking action than of doing something impetuous and deadly. It’s what happens when you haven’t written for several days and the principle about a body at rest tending to stay at rest makes it hard to imagine being able to start … the … ball … rolling...