Writer’s epitaph
When I die no one will see the books unborn inside of me. The infant pages needing flow, in drafted form will never grow, and books awaiting editing, in boxes languish eyes unseen. If nothing… Continue reading
When I die no one will see the books unborn inside of me. The infant pages needing flow, in drafted form will never grow, and books awaiting editing, in boxes languish eyes unseen. If nothing… Continue reading
WARNING: Weird Humor lurks below. DYSLEXIA: A not-quite-right state of being that is different for every person who has it. VISUAL IMPAIRMENT: A not-quite-right state of being that is different for every person… Continue reading