Soon and once again, I’ll be going up North. You’ll be reading my daily journal entries recounting the last weeks of my life in 1917. This is my fourth year of the Journal of My Last Spring and the story gets better each year. If you have followed in previous years, you know the general thread of the story, but every year, new layers, details and intrigues are incorporated.
I’m hard at work on writing the book, But I plan to keep that under wraps until I publish in 2017. In the meantime you’ll see new tweets and new journal entries unexpectedly appear, much like new memories revealed to Marcel Proust while eating his tea soaked cake, reflecting on past memories. As the journal entries area are re-visited, new memories are revealed expressing what I felt and experienced during my last weeks of 1917. More light will be shed on what remains to be the unsolved mystery of my fate on July 8, 1917.
So enjoy. This story, I hope, becomes a rite of Canadian spring.