only words, and words can't hurt, can they?

Soaring through grim waves and concrete tower blocks, dancing in the pristine light, of cold winter’s glare. While a notion of stamping feet rushes on the ground, a busy anywhere hum

And would you believe me if I told you that this apple sings? Green and perfect, fleshy womb of nature, gleaming in the light of a perfect sun, shining, radiant, a golden delicious miracle,

“How some men are broken” * Some men are broken in a way that you will recognize immediately; wrapped up stiff, in whatever support they found after some disaster

It's time for the office Christmas party...

Evening's wind descends with an eerie whistle.

In the name of love, a magical interlude often takes place. Whether it involves love between a bird and its young, or an adult with a child, it's the same.

They have caring hearts, these young Yanks.