Snippets and sniping from the werewolf brigade. Posted by somethingeuclidean under NaNo. Tonight, Bee would be descending with the sun. So she sipped her coffee and watched freely. It seemed like no one saw her as she sat alone, wearing out-of-place leather clothing; it was as though their eyes skipped past her somehow, that in scanning the outdoor tables they blinked just where she should be.

Saturday, November 14, 2009. Will they sit until the rain is over? What if it rains for days? Do they enjoy the bath or resent it? Now only one little bird and one big bird are left in the tree. The grey clouds press low, and it feels wet even in our warm, dry home, and I feel happy. Tuesday, November 3, 2009. Hungry for what? Then I started to feel full. I was overwhelmed, full of things and thoughts, like I wa.

In order to minimise loitering,. For privacy now you had to sit. Leaning at some painful angle, arm outstretched. Don the Foreman though had made a clasp. From a headless copper nail filed down and twisted in a loop. Like a letter of obscure Oriental script,. Kept hidden in the breast of his overalls. Lunch break we sat on the tarmac. Wrists numb, fingers stinging,. The smell of roses and geranium,.

Three mcdoubles with a sundae and a shake. Fishing with Seb at Perrin Creek. An assortment of recent photographs. Create a free website or blog at WordPress.