Thanksgiving nausea
He could hear his mother downstairs, just like always. Thanksgiving, pie and family, it made him nauseous. Horace knew the time had come; even dressed in bulky jackets change was […]
He could hear his mother downstairs, just like always. Thanksgiving, pie and family, it made him nauseous. Horace knew the time had come; even dressed in bulky jackets change was […]
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