Culture day around here.

  I wrote a short story in almost one go yestereve. Wasn't going to, because the book has been going so great, but this story rang in my brain-cell thorough the whole train ride, while I was knitting. As if that wasn't bad enough, our window shopping in HN (Me putting my hands on every Apple product and the General in a super cushy leather sofa, watching 3D Avatar on a screen the size of our bed... Perfect fit, actually!), the flawless acoustics of the department were playing that Prince song, that just keeled my mood right under: When the doves cry. The story just HAD to be like that song! So, the ending was kind of self-demeaning. I came out a real cold bitch - I mean even more than usual - but by the time I got up again this morning, what might have been a tiny hint of redemption sort of bloomed into a perfectly perky and righteous closure. Considering briefly if I should include this tale into the first book, I've decided instead to simply begin the next one. No hurries there. I have all year to come up with the 19 others :))
            Not to mention I'm getting  a nasty ambition to make a movie out of this one. I do after all have an HD camera supreme 8)
Anyhoo, it's about a farm in the bottleneck of a national mountain resort I intend to write about, only to discover it is being sabotaged by a young  forest hermit.(Yes, it's titled I <3 Snufkin. No shocks there :p)
            I watch this odd place every time I ride the train. It's bound to have tales and I just am that kind of a detective :))