Today the day has flown away mad. Bills, invoices, shipments. If we had not answered the phone at least "Caravan Editions, good evening" I think we started to have doubts about being a publisher.
What can I say, sometimes it's tough. There are crises of identity. Then when the world decides it's time to not just treat you with due respect (just like the kind of tiscali on the phone) then I'll take you to a languid and cosmic despair. So thanks to our printer, and neighbor across, which always has a friendly word of comfort. And the owner of the Red Rooster, who was also our neighbor (we definitely included in the district) who not long ago when we were rushed into our cycle time of demotivation gave us the shirts of the restaurant and told us that if there was to call in his place someone to count on him! So look out enemies of the Caravan ...
For the rest we move towards our next book, of which we are very happy and we think its caravanesco: a wonderful collection of tales of cities in Eastern Europe. Why Paris and London it can not be more tomorrow ...
hope to feel a bit 'less secretaries of ourselves and a little' more than a bubbly writing ...
Greetings from Caravan
Ps. dated July 23: Identity Crisis, indecision, dizziness, and quarrels. Challenged, laughter, tears and hugs. And great news that restores confidence ... The Caravan is full and gets back into gear, accepting new challenges!
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