Riverwitch – stories of time and place
On the lessons came, thick and fast throughout that spring and summer, dealing one blow after another. They didn’t all come from animals. I began to get anonymous hate mail – emails and comments on my blog – from someone in America who had discovered that I’d once worked for a tobacco company and imagined that it was some big secret and that they were going to ‘out’ me. It had never been a big secret – why would it be? – and I’d talked about it publicly on a number of occasions. But that didn’t prevent the intensity of the unpleasantness, the curious sense of violation added to the isolation I was feeling and the death and dying all around me, from almost toppling me.