There are rocks in my river, dry and pitted, waiting for rain like old grandmothers waiting for the changing of seasons. Wiping their hands on faded aprons after peeling apples, bagging them and putting them in the freezer for future days. The rocks are craggy. Defiant in nature but yet…
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Do not dare to mock my solitude, I am more than happy to spend my time on this wall, soaking up the sun listening to the sounds of the square. These were…
There are rocks in my river, dry and pitted, waiting for rain like old grandmothers waiting for the changing of seasons. Wiping their hands on faded aprons after peeling apples, bagging them and putting them…
Do not dare to mock my solitude, I am more than happy to spend my time on this wall, soaking up the sun listening to the sounds of the square. These were his thoughts on…
