Summer is for waiting, and summer is for salty air. Give me a moment of your time to give you a moment of prayer.

Such a difficult time for writing, for a lot of things, but so easy for others. Difficult for a lot of things, like remembering all those others put there in concert -- no i mean collusion -- with me. Last week I had not given a thought to the Chasm or anyone for what seemed like seven ages and, absentmindedly crossing the -- where are my words? -- sacristy (?) of my cathedral, all forty torches suddenly dimmed on my arrival. It halted me, dim myself, apparently. The flames did not flare back up. I remember now.

Part of the problem, of course, is that I am bored with my characters. I could tell you more stories of fauna and heroes, but they are the same old fauna and the same old heroes and none of them are doing anything particularly heroic or even noteworthy. Not even a meltdown of hubris! Not a single dastardly deed!

So help me, I may have to create some worlds of my own.

I believe the word I wanted above was "sanctuary."