Softness of the moss
For every year Martha shrunk a little. It had been sixty years now; Sixty years since her father changed her future. Every day she paid with prayers in the convent. […]
For every year Martha shrunk a little. It had been sixty years now; Sixty years since her father changed her future. Every day she paid with prayers in the convent. […]
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis