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.”
writing, traveling, and tap dancing around town.
The place where all the things I write live
Writer and procrastinator
Warden of Words // Shaper of Stories
Bewitching Journey of Words to Meaning
This is the story of building a cottage , the people and the place. Its a reminder of hope and love.
The 24 hour Writing Hotspot and Hang Out
Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV