On the darkest evening of the year, I follow the downy-flaked trail out past the village. Between the woods and frozen lake, I locate the dollhouse. My sister can’t drag it any farther. Stopping here, we watch it fill up with snow.
Entradas con "Translation" disponen de versión castellana.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Somewhere Not in the Hills of the Spanish Civil War
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Sundering
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