scribbles…(1)
There is no elegant, poised way to clutch a crayon. As your fingers fist-wrap around the wax and shoulders hunch instinctively over paper, this world of adult falls away in scales. The little stub of wax; is now the portkey [...]
There is no elegant, poised way to clutch a crayon. As your fingers fist-wrap around the wax and shoulders hunch instinctively over paper, this world of adult falls away in scales. The little stub of wax; is now the portkey [...]
To Know Is to Know that You really Don't.
What did the viviparous tell the oviparous? It's not fair, I never get laid.