Every night it seems, when I start writing, there’s this frosting layer of depressed emotion I have to wade through to find words. Is it resistance? Is it my actual state of being? Its wall-like presence intimidates me like one of those weeping angels from Dr. Who. I wish I didn’t have this old codgerContinue reading “Old Man”
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Going On 40 