The provenience of the pococurante polyglot’s pristine plastron was problematic at worst, a reflection of probity at best – if what the prosaic proprietor’s presage was true – ‘less it plinked to the bottom of the pond like a picayune pebble.
Smiling • Writing • Dreaming
Fiction from Photos
Where Stories Go Sideways...Sort of
All Is One With Our Creator
The Unwitting Journeys of the Witty Miss Livingstone
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
Desperately trying not to be basic.
Never stop dreaming, 'cause the day you stop dreaming, is the day you stop living.
Reflections on Life through poetry, essays and photos