8:10 a.m. — Atlanta.
listening to Paul McCartney singing with Straight, No Chaser.
Hello, everyone. I was going to include this post among my links today, but as I reread it, I realised I want to reblog the whole.
The post is a wonderful essay, by Liz, who writes about her experiences living with her autistic son, Dylan. This particular post is titled ‘My Trees Have Grown Hair: The Poetry of Autism’ and speaks to Liz’ realisations and perceptions about language because of Dylan.
Thank you to Misky, who sent it to me to read. I shall see you all tomorrow. Happy writing.