Weapons, comfort and existence.
Words are my addiction; sometimes soft: a butterfly and sound of trees, or scent of snow — But words are often harsher, metals, minerals the kind you forge for war: […]
Words are my addiction; sometimes soft: a butterfly and sound of trees, or scent of snow — But words are often harsher, metals, minerals the kind you forge for war: […]
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