Alone in the attic. On the desk, her farewell note stained with coffee.
“What matters isn't the fact of dying or when you die. It's what you're doing at that precise moment -- I'm ready to be loved.”
winter drizzle...
my smoke rings
drifting
“What matters isn't the fact of dying or when you die. It's what you're doing at that precise moment -- I'm ready to be loved.”
winter drizzle...
my smoke rings
drifting
Notes from the Gean, 4:1, June 2012
