Letting Life Lead
My skis skid on fresh powder and wind breaks my face. A presence pursues.
“Apparitions collect the unwary,” I had warned. The enthusiast didn’t believe what his camera couldn’t snare.
I chase speed to the bottom. Totem markers constrain Dame’ Wit — sucker of souls.
Mouthless, she demands, “More. Bring.”
Essays and reviews on narrative in games and new media
My reflections of life in general.
A little bit of life... A little bit of writing.... A lot of awkward.
creative writing by northie
Willie Gordon Suting | poet | writer | freelancer | bibliophile | crooner | fashionista | Shillong,Meghalaya,Northeast India
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An old man wrestling with the alphabet. And other stuff.