All their good stories had been sold - Second-hand windows on the world. Wisdom is anecdotal, I suppose. Whispers, I hear, are never told.
Tag: shit haiku
Humming Neil Sedaka.
He had risen not unusually for a week day or weekend afternoon - the sun chased the moon between the clouds; both shimmering in the tree boughs, like matinées (before the talkies); the hanging rain, the red puddles of leaves in the street - * but he found himself wondering again as he shaved, smearing … Continue reading Humming Neil Sedaka.
My Strasse.
I signed up for a course - Creative Journaling: it ticked all the boxes. Something that I've always done. Well, you gotta have a hobby, innit. The amusement being me (I should put more effort in). The notebook is the end of the novel - Wish I'd said that - I just did (I note … Continue reading My Strasse.


