Buring or Telling Stories?

The difference is in the mind of a storyteller

I am sitting on a crackly, cheaped kitchen stool, feeling the warmth of pale orange rays playing gently on my face. The dots of dirt on the window glass, brave recipients of frequent rain, obscure the temperature reading on an outdoor thermometer. The taste of Inka coffee and Mazafati dates still lingers on my palate when I prayerfully give thanks that …