like writing... The tea in front of me silently puffs whisps of steam as if to prod me forward and encourage me. I feel so inspired and alive, like a candle in the corner of a dark room. I sit here quietly, defying the …

It was a misty morn. The trees were dripping, the birds a singing, and my soul was contemplating quietly. The thick blanket of fog immersed the landscape. It was an English fog. Big dew drops fell from my leafless f…

"Where is hope? It has passed like rain on the mountains...like wind in the meadow. The days have come down in the west, behind the hills. Into shadow... How did it come to this?" How did it come to this...? …