Leaving in November
You left when leaves were dirty rags, when foliage shrunk to tattered shrouds dangling on the barren boughs. You left when days were dusk and foggy fingers slipped around my […]
You left when leaves were dirty rags, when foliage shrunk to tattered shrouds dangling on the barren boughs. You left when days were dusk and foggy fingers slipped around my […]
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