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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryPad Life: What The Giraffe?? airyfairy181 month 6 days ago
StoryPulp Fiction drhilarius211 months 6 days ago
StoryDescend Yutka311 months 4 weeks ago
Storytragic Coolhermit412 months 2 days ago
StoryShe Called It Kicker drhilarius11 year 9 hours ago
StoryVirulence drhilarius61 year 2 weeks ago
StorySavannah onemorething91 year 2 weeks ago
StoryThe Impostor drhilarius41 year 3 weeks ago
StoryHow to catch a laughing owl onemorething41 year 3 weeks ago
StoryNoirish Delirium drhilarius111 year 1 month ago
StoryChan Nar Poorah drhilarius61 year 1 month ago
StoryArtur and Guillaume (part 3) drew_gummerson191 year 1 month ago
StoryJessica drhilarius61 year 1 month ago
StoryBunuel’s Safe Spaces With No Exits (Ft. Steven Wilson’s Harmony Korine) drhilarius01 year 1 month ago
StoryMinnesota Fats drew_gummerson191 year 1 month ago
StoryWind Chimes in North America MistakenMagic4310 years 1 month ago
StoryWarning MistakenMagic3611 years 2 months ago
StoryInner Demons MistakenMagic2311 years 3 months ago
StoryLucid Dreams In Moscow MistakenMagic2611 years 3 months ago
StoryAmnesia MistakenMagic3211 years 3 months ago

My stories


Pulp Fiction

Drenched in grey and metallic blue frames, wise guys in beige trench coats and matte black hats (and sometimes white gloves) have unfinished business...

She Called It Kicker

In the corner lies a relic of fierce camaraderie, of battles fought with banter and laughter, of a summer whose warmth ceases to be. Soaked in blue...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week


Throngs and swarms, throngs and swarms of words and fury, encapsulated in forty and a hundred characters deafening bickering Gaussian noise, pour...
Gold cherry

Chan Nar Poorah

Not quite the village you see in pictures that magnify the squalor and human sufferings in search for poignance, Not quite the seductress Urbanah...

Bunuel’s Safe Spaces With No Exits (Ft. Steven Wilson’s Harmony Korine)

In placid lone islands, six feet socially distanced, with no exits we reside, feeling the way the eyes of tornadoes must feel, there’s no sound to...


4 of my comments have received 4 Great Feedback votes

1 Vote

Again, so poignantly beautiful

Posted on Sun, 30 Aug 2020

"love is its own kind of suffering, 

and in this suffering we notice we are alive. " reminded me of Garcia Marquez's "Love in the time of Cholera", and "Of love and other demons". 

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Posted in Savannah

1 Vote


Posted on Sun, 23 Aug 2020

"and would we, if we could, turn back,

reverse even our unintentional sins,

and at our play of might-have-beens 

what history should we modify,

before extinction quietened and

we wonder what it is that now fills...

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Posted in How to catch a laughing owl