As I posted early this morning: In order to feel free (unstuck), you have to feel trapped (stuck) once in a while.
No better contrast for this than graduating from the Graduate Hotel and matriculating into The Oliver, other side of Courthouse Square.
From hell to heaven: A very sweet suite with French doors (the only way in a hotel these days to breathe poorly filtered oxygen).
But the main event this evening is homage paid to native son William Faulkner (born in nearby Albany), who ensured Oxford’s status as Literary Capital of the South.
The lead photo illustrates a toast to the author of The Sound and the Fury with his favorite tipple (which he tippled quite a lot, bless his soul): Old Forester bourbon, a few drops of simple syrup, sprig of mint, snapped and imbibed at the bar of popular Saint Leo.
Earlier in the day I visited Faulkner’s gravesite…
…and after that, Rowan Oak, his home for over 40 years.
“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”
― William Faulkner