Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
Smoothing away soil, I caressed it; the eye followed me, studied me, compelled me faster.
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Inspired by (sequel to):
Burrowing tenderly with my hands, I could but adore this beast that had summoned me.Underground Bethlehem
- Published 5 years ago.
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