I knew it the minute he mentioned north and south Italy.
“It’s very different. North and south Italy. Have you been there?”
He’s from close to Rome, and I have family born in Sicily. I have an Australian passport in my closet. Continue reading
I knew it the minute he mentioned north and south Italy.
“It’s very different. North and south Italy. Have you been there?”
He’s from close to Rome, and I have family born in Sicily. I have an Australian passport in my closet. Continue reading
My apartment is down to nearly empty. There are two pieces of furniture left, which are disposable, and closets that contain approximately two suitcases of contents.
Few things provide more comfort to a gypsy. I take pride in being able to collect everything I have, in under 15 minutes – and bounce. And while I have seven months until this will likely occur, I’m someone who likes to be prepared. Continue reading
Left (out) Verse
The problem they have is that I never
(lose faith) Care about. This bullshit. Promise. Continue reading
Trauma is a strange beast. No matter how much you pat her in your lap to keep her calm, you know sooner or later, with one quick neck whip – she bites you, again.
Everyone on Earth experiences trauma to a certain degree. I feel like anyone who disagrees with that might be still in some type of denial period.
Matters of the heart are among my top traumatizing periods. Like now, for example. Continue reading
© 2019 the world and words of a writer
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑