Walking to Byzantium
The lines that now smudge my map look more like the flight of a woozy bluebottle than the traces of a man with a plan
The lines that now smudge my map look more like the flight of a woozy bluebottle than the traces of a man with a plan
I started at the word gifting like a horse shying at a plastic bag caught in the hedge. Why didn’t I like it?
That test drive was bliss, something like the feeling of your first cigarette after your third drink
The prevailing assumption has been that the natural historical trend is leftward