In the spring of '94 cher was invited to a writers' retreat outside of bordeaux, france. Even before she left her house, there was magic. The week before her trip she would wake up in the middle of the night and write.. and write.. and write. She was like the girl with the red shoes, she couldn't stop writing. She flew to Paris, caught a commuter to bordeaux, drove two hours down a country road in the dark, up a hill, down a long driveway and there it was, 'the castle.' It was scary and thrilli...
In the spring of '94 cher was invited to a writers' retreat outside of bordeaux, france. Even before she left her house, there was magic. The week before her trip she would wake up in the middle of the night and write.. and write.. and write. She was like the girl with the red shoes, she couldn't stop writing. She flew to Paris, caught a commuter to bordeaux, drove two hours down a country road in the dark, up a hill, down a long driveway and there it was, 'the castle.' It was scary and thrilling at the stime time (her favorite combination). In the morning she got up and ran to breakfast (she was somewhat late of course.. she runs on something called 'taurus time') in the 'great banquet hall.' there were knights in armour and beautiful queens painted on the walls and a huge long table where everyone was laughing and talking and eating. She walked in and they all came over and hugged her. It was wonderful. They ate and then it was time to work. She was so scrared. How would it all work. Would all these new friendly artist think she was untalented. Supid "Cher' (Oh God she wanted to get a glass of water, she wanted her mother). but never mind all that. She did what she always does, pretened she could do something and let God take care of the rest! then it just happend. Enjoy it. She hopes it speaks to your heart. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.
