The Art of Tripping

She stood and stared out at the world, debilitated and hopeful, all the same. One by one, lights snapped into existence above and below her as the horizon began to slowly fade into the darkening violet curtain. "Oh, 'scuse me," an old man chuckled as he nearly tripped into her, "It's getting pretty dark, miss, might want to head down soon."

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Stories From Honduras

Lena Kvigne // Missionary

The Wandering Poet

Footsteps, Footprints and Words

The Holly Tree Tales

Stories and philosophy, borne out of my own experiences of life on three continents.

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