Letting Life Lead
We gawked at the cold, avant-garde chandelier. Clear, glass tubes sharpened to icicle points crowded together forming a spiral dangling from invisible wire.
“Oh, at around 2800 degrees.”
Daddy mumbled, “Or if Uncle Sebastian talks to it.”
playing by my own rules
We take the heat 'cause we gotta eat.
Liz's home for all things writing related.
I have no idea why I picked this blog name, but there's no turning back now
"Our subject isn't cool, but [s]he fakes it anyway."- The Offspring
Musings through the journey of writing my first novel
It is what it is and it too shall pass.