Formalin and cartilage
I could never touch his waxy face, sunken, yet familiar. Painted and preserved with formalin, his blood exchanged with chemicals. His nose and ears seemed larger than in life since […]
I could never touch his waxy face, sunken, yet familiar. Painted and preserved with formalin, his blood exchanged with chemicals. His nose and ears seemed larger than in life since […]
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