An Angel’s mom
A long, long, time ago, in my teens, instead of only reading the section of the Sunday newspaper plastered with […]
A long, long, time ago, in my teens, instead of only reading the section of the Sunday newspaper plastered with […]
I was thirty one when I first held snowflakes, bunched together in my fist. Although I had travelled to North
Three years ago I looked at aviation and said ‘It’s not me, it’s you’ and broke up.
After “Oh my Godding” for the gazillionth time, I paced my living room. The words I yearned to commit in writing were playing hide and seek in an alphabet jungle. What could I possibly have to say to a room of six hundred people? Me? Speaking at the United Nations?
The drama of television morphed into reality when an orchestra of rhythmic drumming sprung from the sky. I ran outside,