The Wingchair Traveller

Runaway Train Adam the player. The name will forever be embedded in my mind now for all eternity.  I think what brought it there was when ...

Anais Nin, how did you do it? Put your thoughts on the page in such a way as to be, not only interesting, but spoken from the heart? Fo...

We March We finally make it to the beach in one piece, after marching like soldiers, each equipped with our compatible loads on our bac...

A Poem: written in the morning So many nights of struggle, of convincing and persuasion.  I am lost in a sea of words forgotten or mis...

Don’t call me “dear” it sounds so harsh to my delicate ears Call me by my name but only sometimes I can call you by your name though ...

War Paint The bell for dismissal rings. We rush down the hall Towards our lockers, throwing our social studies books in our bags Fo...

I wake up to darkness. Blank with no light at all. I feel my way towards the window to see if I can make out any light. Nothing. It is a mo...