Maybe I should be a writer. Nestled away in my cottage with a pencil in my hand and a smudged-up paper pinned under my elbow. Fire crackles in the hearth with wood I chopped that morning. The aroma of spiced tea and weathered parchment float in the room. I stare back at my rows of novels and reminisce through the very adventures that inspired those stories. The wilderness expands in my mind, an image more vivid than words can recall. What’s the saying? A picture is worth a thousand words....