Sunday, November 23, 2014


At Saint-Grégoire des montagnes: We approached a travelers hut with circumspection, understanding, having read a recent issue of The Honest Tourist, that previous venturers had met tragedy in similar conditions. We peered carefully across a valley to ascertain the presence of possibly dangerous animals, vegetables or alternative forces. Realizing none of our premonitions of disaster, we lay back our heads and indulged a previously undiscovered cellular want of calm.

Several hours later, bloated with chroma, we beheld the majesty of the mountainside sanctuary and involuntarily broke into song. Much later, energized as only a kinesiologist might determine (my aunt literally dancing for several miles) we continued on—where-to being of little or no concern given the sense of well being proffered by the sanctuary. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)


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