"I stay still, fixated on the scene, wondering if all of them will outlive me."
There it was, out in the open for all to see, like an upchucked chipmunk from their cat Mitzi on the rug in front of us.
“So, the city: is it ours?”
A coming of age story about two teenage boys looking for trouble during the dull summer.
No longer hostage to the vestigial ballast of our former master, we were free to chase whatever fancied our opposable whims.
Let's talk about mental health
When To Fly Away
"The skeleton branches on the trees above us, like the scene was playing on a television and someone was fucking with the tint, the wind blowing shapes around, moving curvy limbs, branches, sticks."
"Whenever you do think of reaching out for the line, it's been easier for you to fire up another bong load, turn up the music and lose another day."
What kind of story would you like to write?
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