July 1, 2012 by Vicky Newham. Some of those books above my head look a bit. So, if I sit under them, will I absorb their contents? June 29, 2012 by Vicky Newham.

At the library stop, my books. Paint on my cheeks,. On my hands, but not on my canvas. The train climbs up the tall ladder. Of the academy and halts. In the middle where I paint. In the middle, Where I fail to rise,. The way it fits like a tangerine in a bowl of fruits. I stop at your lips a.

UNTOUCHABLE by Ava Marsh a review. Originally posted on Vicky Newham, writer. If you start feeling anything for a client and it does happen count the money. Amongst crowded book shelves, a novel with an unusual setting or protagonist stands out. Originally posted on Vicky Newham, writer.

WRITERS INTERNATIONAL NETWORK ZIMBABWE - Registered. Under the National Arts Council of Zimbabwe. WIN Newsletter, Issue No 92. Some of the 2015 ZIBF Writers Workshop participants. Welcome, welcome to the 92. Issue of our WIN Newsletter. The ZIBF indeed was a place to be. Although we did not exhibit, we were there! We hope that you fellow writers also submitted stories to the Short Story Day Africa competition. Many thanks for your unwavering support and please enjoy.

I am an Expat living and working in Dubai. One should never stop learning and questioning. The Old Library in Dubai I get involved in as much as I can to promote a love of reading and thinking. Sunday, 9 August 2015. Books that wont take you this long to read.

An electric journal of a castaway. In hindsight on my life as a human so far. The Time Has Finally Came! Ladies and gentlemen,. 4 Months ago I promised you a new site that is pretty much like this one, just not at all, and strangely better. I worked my fingers to the bone and had a great time doing it. I know you will enjoy it.

The for real, for real. I wake up each day. I wish i could have been. I was never the kind of person that admired the green grass of my neighbors yard. I looked over there, yeah, and constantly- but I wanted something dead and brown. To lay down in bed.

Rhodesia, the way it was, the way we spoke, the way we lived.

Dear coyote head understand the way I want to kiss you. Like an inland sigh a heaviness mist that spreads redwoods. Stones silver calls out the crow buried in teeth. Deer kisser know I am two unsteady feet. Tumbling blindly through the woods behind your house. Listen and you will hear quiet then. The sound of my voice singing. A hymn hummed red dark under the light of a porch. You can get a new book of checks or a credit.