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That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms. And my roots will set off to seek another land. On that day, at the hour, she did lift her arms. And she did, find roots in another land. Till I reunite with her, this is the space in which we find each other again, momentarily. This is a response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
On The beauty of pain. Get Post Updates by Email. Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
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I Swear I Did Not Die. But I do have one thing to say. Filed under The Writing Nini.
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