All the air devoid of voice, the land beyond the fray
Is there a moment so serene//That one might forget to breathe...
Open your hands and walk through your garden//Is there dirt beneath your nails?
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Writer and Linguist
"I saw the Angel in the marble, and carved until I set him free"
Born in Poland | Living in Texas Now | Hype
Speculative fiction book reviews and more!
December Rose 