A day of stagnant change

To edit or not to edit? This was the death of pages. I had written more than double the pages I currently have composed for the book. After going back and reading my own writing and doing a critical edit I cut out more than half of the slop. Pigs will not go hungry as long as I keep up the engagement that I have with this book. Yes it is the first time that I have really tried my hand and pen to this style of composition. Yet when I look at the mess of words situated within. I reflect that the sewer has backed up again and flooded my pages with stink. Others tell me how much they embrace the flow and caricature of what I have done so far, but for me it is a challenge not to scrap most of it. I believe that I will need to give my work to an outside editor in the future.

Here is a new segment piece from Knife’s Tell.

9 May, 1888 Narcissa met me soon as I emerged from the morning staff meeting. Questions were commanding her to request that she take the boy out for assessment of eloquence. Studying her face for a moment, I granted the request with specifications and limitations, directing my man to go with them. Having had little to eat the day before I bid Cook into bringing me a sumptuous breakfast. In short order she returned with fried ham and eggs.

Fried Ham and Eggs

Ingredients – Ham ; Eggs

Mode. – Cut the ham into slices taking care that they are the same thickness in every part. Cut off the rind, and if the ham should be particularly hard and salt, it will be found an improvement to soak it for about ten minutes in hot water, and then dry it in a cloth. Put it in a cold frying-pan, set it over the fire, and turn the slices three or four times whilst they are cooking. When done, place them on a dish, which should be kept hot in front of the fire during the time the eggs are being poached. Poach the eggs, slip them on to the slices of ham and serve quickly.

Mrs. Beeton 1892

Today secured itself with a bright sun lighting up the distance of clouds. Beams illuminated the hills where the river flowed to the city, causing the ground to blaze with colors. I needed to get out and a short walk of ten to twelve kilometers would be good in the brisk air. Sampling the country side this morning was a wonderful choice. Coming over a hill to where a branch ran across a meadow, I spied movement at the waters edge. At that moment a beautiful lass with dark auburn hair stood up from the waters. Her hair and skin taut in cool awakening, radiating in jeweled supremacy. Sun beams danced upon her nude body, malleable and changing, as a ballet conducted by a great master. Movements within air and earth would not have shook me more. Who was she, where had she come from alone in this countryside. My answers would not be conformed today. She ran as a faun when an errant shot is fired, with the glimpse of me on the horizon. The rest of today my thoughts have rested upon that image. I must find her again.

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