
Strings
There's a piece of string I play with every time you run away. You know this. It’s not a fancy string. White and tightly rolled, about five…
Author, Maker, Mystery, and Stuff.

There's a piece of string I play with every time you run away. You know this. It’s not a fancy string. White and tightly rolled, about five…

A short scene I wrote years go. I don't even remember the secret.

When we share a beloved song with a new partner, what happens when the relationship ends?

A snippet: Life is a dance, and missteps early on can make us wallflowers the rest of our lives.

Love, loneliness, and miscommunication.

You're lost in a world of pinwheels and shiny sparkly recycled plastic toys. Daydreaming, nightdreaming, napdreaming.

A snippet that inspired coffee sippers.

There is a world of treasure and lore in the waters beneath you.

The cities speak, and the Conquerors respond.

Let me see you in that black dress, legs crossed and hair tossed, sitting under a pink umbrella.

There are fires, my dear, in dark and lonely places. We rarely give them names. Still they burn.

A call to writers. In tumultuous times, our words can change the world.

Always, we are, drifting towards oblivion. Always, we are, on the edge of heart break.