Story of the footloose
In the end, all you want is a pen that writes well and a life that you've lived well.
A trembling begins, of skin and of spirit. Is this the lingering bite of winter’s cold, or the first note of the Spring Song?
In the end, all you want is a pen that writes well and a life that you've lived well.
A trembling begins, of skin and of spirit. Is this the lingering bite of winter’s cold, or the first note of the Spring Song?
SOTF 