Depraved of Oxygen
Depraved of air, we were the very last to leave this soil now scorched. Our numbers drawn, exchanged for boarding cards; uniquely registered we were tattooed with its conductive ink, […]
Depraved of air, we were the very last to leave this soil now scorched. Our numbers drawn, exchanged for boarding cards; uniquely registered we were tattooed with its conductive ink, […]
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