Part 9: Lake Annecy in the Rain

The mark of Camino was carved on my cheek. It was carved on my arms, my hands, my legs, and my feet. I felt as if kitty had followed the fictional Zorro’s modus vivendi and taunted me: As the storied highwayman would sneer: “We have had enough of playing,” Señorita....

To chat, to comment, to inquire about coaching or a class, or even to share your own travel adventures and/or writerly insights on anything you’ve enjoyed on this site, please do get in touch.

I’d love to hear from you!

15 + 10 =