Sunrise
It’s sunrise. Cold. She’s still asleep; a child, beaded and with dreadlocks; she’s fashionably trashed but judging from the needle-marks on her forearms the search for veins has been successful. […]
It’s sunrise. Cold. She’s still asleep; a child, beaded and with dreadlocks; she’s fashionably trashed but judging from the needle-marks on her forearms the search for veins has been successful. […]
practising for a whole life
dancing with my muse
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
Now we see through a glass, darkly
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.