UntitledThe Smattering Sound of the River, Twinkling about like a Butterfly, in a Summer Breeze, Gently Flows Foreseeing its Future ahead. Little...
sketchHe sits, his back to a tree. Eyes darting, pen hovering over unmarked page. An ant crawls over his leg. He doesn’t notice. Glancing at...
RootsFar beneath are the people that have never been gleaned upon, the stories never told like an unopened book, the secrets I am never to...