The art of story telling There’s no need for me to mull about it at all. Why should I? And yet, I can't help but fret over it. At the same time, it's...
First there is the dull smack on the dark water of the forest pond. Frightened birds fly from the dignified reeds into the brutal woods. I notice the...
For as long as I can remember, the cliff has been there. Dark, deep and chilling. Like a notorious enemy. Like a dreaded demon. But at the same time...