Wet wool
Blackbirds singing, linden blooming and a nauseating reek of roses. I withdraw to the back of the chapel. I can neither face the fake sorrow of her family nor myself. […]
Blackbirds singing, linden blooming and a nauseating reek of roses. I withdraw to the back of the chapel. I can neither face the fake sorrow of her family nor myself. […]
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