Making my mask
My asylum has a garden where I sometimes walk, pretending that the soothing drugs that storm my veins are the sober bliss of sunshine on my skin, that the bruising […]
My asylum has a garden where I sometimes walk, pretending that the soothing drugs that storm my veins are the sober bliss of sunshine on my skin, that the bruising […]
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.
The Quantumverse
Verba volant, scripta manent !
About fantastical places and other stuff