Had this perfect warm-winded by the sun, green-leaves slashed among the orange, gold and red, take your jacket off and tie it round your waist day come in September, it would not be the treasure that it is on this November day.
Flash Fiction Fridays
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- A Death in The Family
- At Swim Two Birds
- Barthes
- BASS
- Black Swan Green
- Blindness
- BLOGGING
- Borges
- Calvino
- Clockwork Orange
- Confrontation
- Consolation of Philosophy
- Cormac McCarthy
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- Faulkner
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- Henderson The Rain King
- if on a winter's night a traveler
- Ishiguro
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- Life of Pi
- LITERATURE
- Margaret Atwood
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- POETRY
- provinces of night
- REALITY
- St. Augustine
- Steinbeck
- Suttree
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being
- Tropic of Cancer
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- William Gay
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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"I foresee the successful future of a very mediocre society."
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The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
True and beautifully said
Man, my morose mood must be seeping through everything. I thought this was very upbeat when I wrote it!
Oh, I didn’t find it morose. Instead it made me think that I should stop and pay attention more to days and moments like this. It is upbeat. :o)And it is beautifully said