rask_balavoine
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My stories
Goodbye Arnold.
Refulgent sunshine skimmed over the graveyard behind the Church this morning. It threw long shadows on the grass that was crisp and white with...
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- 85 reads
Why pigeons mock us and poop on our towns.
The bathroom window was part open the way John likes it always to be when he was in there first thing in the morning. That way he can breathe fresh...
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- 103 reads
Wobbling between this and that.
Death sat gaunt and unloved at the piano in Alice's drawing room after many years of silent tears and honey. His coattails fell almost to the floor...
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- 304 reads
Roses for Mr Keats
I told Susan that Keats was buried in Rome. It was a line of course, factually true but nevertheless a line. She was already captivated by what she...
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- 300 reads
Post Christmas relief.
Little Benjamin was out for a walk with his father on the first fresh, crisp day of 2017. It was the first time that Benjamin really understood the...
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- 548 reads