Inner musings of a Wayward Writer
If you think about it, we are nothing more and nothing less than living, breathing time machines. The past only exists in our minds, rooted down in our collective memories. As a result, we can go back whenever we want. We can travel through time to relive any moment from our past in the blink …
He sits in the park, slumped against a tree with a half-empty cask of wine in his lap. There’s a cigarette stained with hair gel behind his ear. The warm afternoon sun makes him sleepy. He picks up the wine, brings the plastic nozzle to his lips and guzzles down several mouthfuls. People start to …
Writing on Tangents