Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

These days the comfort with cleverness of our times, whether with the speed of things instant, or the news of things social, all don’t ignite me. Rather, this morning, we begin again with grace, in thanks, with eyes burning like a bush endlessly brilliant, endlessly bright, for the warmness of these times, the love of things red, times electric, times together, times full, moments soft, those bright and red like the lessons of a burning bush…