Things, as are
You're used to the acoustics of a toilful everyday, and though it bothers you, it is an indi…
You're used to the acoustics of a toilful everyday, and though it bothers you, it is an indi…
Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” played as I sat in my room at dawn. It is dark, and the phone is situat…
It lies on the borderline between fantasy and reality. It’s the culmination of the continuing le…
Under stars that hesitate to share their brights Amidst the half white, swipes grades of all the…
As I was allowed to fare this land once more, I could see anybody without worrying about the con…
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