How to say goodbye. The air moved a vacuum of sound. With a blunt breath and eyes on the ground, the mortal invaded, through sunlight he waded and silence was heard all the way down.
Choke.
A four day week is an affair of proportions so glorious that it means Friday has come without my usual straggling spirit and dwindling dynamism. And so it is with my seldom felt Friday fizz that I bring you The Hemingway Day, and six words that together…
The Hemingway Day. Soul.
After my latest barrage of photos and words I decided it was necessary to give your inboxes a break, but I am back today with my old Flash Fiction Friday feature wrapped up in some brand new packaging… It was…
Death Sentence.
Day 18 of photography101… “Edge” Death Sentence. Every now and again the glass would chime from the fluttering of limbs as he realised he was still incarcerated.
Death Sentence.
Day 18 of photography101… “Edge” Death Sentence. Every now and again the glass would chime from the fluttering of limbs as he realised he was still incarcerated.
