Roberto raced across the station house to the glass windows facing the platform. He climbed onto the wooden bench set against the windows and pressed his wind burned face to the glass. The warmth of his breath formed a small circle of fog on the cold window.
"Roberto!"
more...
each piece she's torn from the whole she gathers up to organize in a way that makes sense... A discussion point where ideas, articles, and stories that contain much of what you want and need to become aware of the existing corrupt reality we are experiencing and of ways to solve them...
No comments:
Post a Comment