“We’re all in the gutter . . . but some of us are looking at the stars.”
George Bernard Shaw
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One of these days I may grow up, but until then I’ll keep on making up stuff and writing it down and carry on my torrid love affair with wordswordswords
I love intensity—in images, in prose content, and in words in general.
Newsflash I know we’re all visual creatures—but, come on, read the stories, too!
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I can smell her approach. A dizzying elixir smothers me, a licorice-like essence perspiring from her glazed skin.
I look over at Lenny, sitting on the filthy floor beside me in this fetid room,
Daddy slipped and slid down the bank, finally rolling the covered bundle off into the dirty, fetid water of the canal, where it floated for a time that seemed endless to her, before slowly sinking.