Collecting dust, the pieces sit on shelves, in old suitcases, in bookcases, in my home, in other’s houses, distant, close … Continue reading Pieces.
Ironically I am on a plane, flying West to Los Angeles from Boston. After much thought and pondering I have … Continue reading Time To Start Writing.
I arrived back in Boston from Duke. I don’t remember the call I got at school. Or how I got … Continue reading November 12, 1984