I left myself behind somewhere I can’t return.
Tag: minimalist writing
Trying to overhear the part of myself I buried.
We’re all unfinished.
The common bird, No. 24, in a series of animals walking into the wind.
Small Town Films Part 1
The morning arrived but the daylight never came, the sky stayed a deep red and clouds rolled over slowly, hour after hour. Everyone stayed inside, even the old broken Al in the back garden and the urban wildlife of the nights before were nowhere to be seen.