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.”
...in which I share all the writing. And you will love it, dammit.
Try. Try again.
musings of a shellback, back on land
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There's comedic gold behind every painful experience. Here are mine.
playing by my own rules
We take the heat 'cause we gotta eat.