jastoffer

The Chest was a big black mass of iron and leather

And so we sit on the swing waiting for the children to make the long walk up to our old Victorian.

I wanted that soul.

Crossing the bridge I knew I would never look back, not back on those horrible times

All those memories, emotions, and creative juices she had been now painted all over the white wash. Pink macaroni and cheese, you’ll never eat k-d again. Not now.