After the coma
Through the curtains I hear voices, pink as candy-floss. Is this my merry-go-round? Future, present or my past? An angel approaches, her wings are broken but her hair is gold. […]
Through the curtains I hear voices, pink as candy-floss. Is this my merry-go-round? Future, present or my past? An angel approaches, her wings are broken but her hair is gold. […]
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