On April 11, 2009 by scribblespectre.

On March 10, 2009 by Francis. I had not travelled far. It seemed I had barely moved, the fields passing either side of me a barely changing tableau. My aching soles told me I was not stuck in stasis and had travelled a not insignificant route already. London remained a mere decoration upon the horizon. My walking continued monotonously, a gradual slowing that of unwinding clockwork. On March 2, 2009 by Francis. Discussed with a moth by lamplight. On February 20, 2009 by Francis.

On February 14, 2009 by Rhiannon. Write me a library of love letters. Fill my vases with roses and vines. Buy me a closet of negligees. Stuff me with chocolates and fine wines. Promise me more, as you promised you would,. No invisible ink, to decay and dust,. On January 29, 2009 by Rhiannon. He whispered in my ear. And now I am bewitched.

On March 19, 2009 by apricotdreams. On March 2, 2009 by apricotdreams. On March 1, 2009 by apricotdreams. On January 28, 2009 by missvioletedwards. I wonder, has anyone read Agnes Grey. I wish however, that Agnes was correct in her assertion that If the mind be well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, no one ever cares for the exterior. Every day I see women who are shallow, vain, and dull, become brides while.

Rhythms in Tobacco and in Fog. On March 3, 2009 by saviya. Every once in awhile he would stop reading and we would have a discussion about what he just read. Who was this learned traveler? I only remember this conversation like a dream. The last words I told him as he left were blown back at me, oval mouth lined with moustache and tobacco crumbs.