account for every idle word
Work in progress; hard hats advised.
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Hello!
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I'm Abi
Self-confessed "writer who rarely writes."
This is the place on the internet where I attempt to render that last bit untrue.
Popular Posts
Contemplation
Salted air ruffles dusk-red hair. Amber headlights grow large and sweep away across the gentle crash of dappling moonlight. On the per...
Day 13: The History of the Pub
An experiment. How I came to be sitting in this pub; a literal history of the people in this pub. Literally. In an effort to in-absolu...
One of Those Days
“One of those days” is just one of those phrases. Who was it that decided that those days were bad days, or difficult days? It would b...
The Power of Prose
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening By Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He ...
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