All things Language, all things Culture
I sit up a little straight every time your footsteps approach. Pit pat pit pat they come, and then fade away.Always the same. Saunter. That's the word. The smell the sound the touch. The touch of a saunter is creepy. Yet I always forget that when you touch me. Touched me.I have listened for that… Continue reading The Unchosen
In the dream, I am walking. The chain around my foot rattles like a hungry snake. Yet I am walking, floating... down the sleek black streets of my past as if there is no chain around my ankle. As if this rain-soaked evening is as fresh and untainted as the day its first memory was… Continue reading Look Elsewhere
In Other Words 