My grandmother’s plates
In my grandmother’s room always lingered a fragrance I only learned late was from turpentine and linseed oil but the flowers she crafted on platters and bowl I noticed… I […]
In my grandmother’s room always lingered a fragrance I only learned late was from turpentine and linseed oil but the flowers she crafted on platters and bowl I noticed… I […]
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