My daughter will phone from her aunt's car on highway 11 next Sunday night, returning from Saskatoon. I'm just guessing, trying not to say too much in advance of the truth. That's a tactic I learned this afternoon while reading about 83 pages I must have autosaved every two or three minutes in July of this year.
If I know what's there without reading, why read? If there's no cut in shortcut, why take it? What I saw today should be pressed to the ground and over-driven, boldly, italically. It should be swung round Chaplin Lake to Ernfold and Morse, never read but in a town called Raven.
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