Old Things in New Places
I have been wanting to find a writing community closer to where I live for a while now. Recently, I got on meetup.com to see what was out there and came across a group I wanted to try. With the company of a good friend, I was brave enough to go.
No fee to be there, 1 drink minimum, non-alcoholic options available. The place was dark, with dark tables and chairs, dark burnt red walls, and a small black stage with a black curtain behind it. It was an enchanting little cabaret bar.
I like to write in bars, sip on a drink and disappear into the noise. Look up or listen for some inspiration, but it was quiet in here. Other writers were writing, and so I wrote in the new place. Still my pen, my notebook, and a cheap glass of house red. And when I go back, it won’t be so new.
