No sleep for all of us. The cat broke through the window. The street dogs barked as if devils had come. I am writing a novel to write a novel. I am awaiting tumors. Everybody is awaiting them. Since birth.
Tagged with: Me • Writing
This entry was posted on Monday, May 12th, 2014 at 18:31 and is filed under English Posts.
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
Both comments and pings are currently closed.