Christopher Vogler The Writers Journey
burned them off in scrambling across the treacherous shale. H o w thin is the margin
that preserves life. I knew that every step from now on was drawing on core reserves.
I could almost see the sands in the hourglass of my life rushing inevitably down to
nothing.
T h e question was whether to turn back or go ahead. T h e way ahead was
uncertain. I couldn't see the trail picking up on the other side of the landslip and
I knew it would be a difficult task to cross the rugged face of the scar, which was
the only way to continue. It would take as much energy as I had already expended,
maybe more, and there was no assurance that I would be able to find the trail again in
the trees on the other side. I might just be plunging deeper into the wilderness with
night coming on.
I thought about turning back and re-tracing the broken trail I had just tra
annaabi.ee 
