I like liminal places and emotions. Teetering. In between, neither here nor there. A great place to explore. Liminal Rain advances through the mists. November’s gentle hold chooses destinations, depths. Echoes of long lost luminosity. There was a summer. Once. The world seems flatter now. Rain advances through the mists. November’s gentle hold. I stepContinue reading “Liminal, by Britta Benson”