A long, long time ago, literate people sent letters, postcards, and little notes tied to little boats that they sailed down stream to loved ones. Enthralled in that quaint moment of time, this writer imagined a bit of private conversation sent via postcards. He imagined that it might be cryptic, maybe deliberately to avoid prying eyes. He remembers doing things like that, and it was fun.
Now for fun, Michael Paul cuts, splits, and stacks wood, making winter bearable. Sometimes he finds fun in teaching English as a Second Language to teenagers in Central Falls, RI, which is, geography-lovers, the smallest city in the smallest state.
Michael Paul’s most recent offering can be found at: http://pureslush.webs.com/lovehatemarry.htm