Did he follow?
He never had. She’d always looked back, grabbed his hand to pull him with her. Continue reading
Did he follow?
He never had. She’d always looked back, grabbed his hand to pull him with her. Continue reading
Write or write not - there is no aspiring.
Poetry and Commentary that Smells
poetry, fiction, art, books, retro
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
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Fiction Writing
Lance Greenfield - Night Writer
