Turning Autumn Leaves

The clocks had already circled backwards when I took shelter in the passageway beside the second hand book shop. The windows were not lit against the early night and the heavy, black door was locked by the stillness of the recently emptied, untenanted rooms it now kept. I had intended to purchase a new old […]

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On Journaling and Word Rambling

Personal narratives are something we all construct, even if we choose not to share them. We invent them. Weave them. Like making up reasons for what we did after it’s already happened; as if there were some considered rationale or deliberate reasoning before it was done. Which there probably wasn’t. But we can be very […]

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