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Oh leaning soul,
What is love but loss to come?
Old as we go,
Our hearts still yearn!
In youth,
broken we’ve become (more)
Everything had been documented.

Click click. Say cheese. The white light of the flash.

She stored the reels of film in a wooden chest, once stunning, now marked with scratches, the children's names carved in. Every Sunday, after the photos had been developed and the boys wer(more)
He's been out there, fishing, for as long as you can remember.

You don't know how old he is or what he puts in the pasty little pail at his side, because his eyes are always downcast, and his breath always smells of briny sardines. But you hear(more)
Now that was just sick.

Deep inside I wanted to believe I had just been too hasty to act upon a rumor. In fact, I've spent the last half an hour trying to convince myself that the note I found earlier was part of some plot, the wor(more)