Christmas steak
At Christmas eve, we served a steak on dinner plates my grandma painted, and when we laid the table I could sense the scent of linseed oil and turpentine. She […]
At Christmas eve, we served a steak on dinner plates my grandma painted, and when we laid the table I could sense the scent of linseed oil and turpentine. She […]
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