Esme's storyI was ready. Ready to end the pain, to let it all go and take the final step. I looked out at the icy blue sky. A few scraggily wisps of cloud floated around the sun, it was a perfect day. Normally I would be sitting on a bench in the town square admiring the way the sunlight reflected of the glass panes on the clock tower. But today was not a normal day.Esme's story
My hair fluttered around my face in the cool breeze. I breathed in deeply, savouring the smells that filled my nostrils. Salt… rain… clay… smoke... I sighed, it was now or never. I looked down at my feet, my toes were curled over the edge of the cliff face. I wrig
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If I had a nickle for every time I changed my signature, I'd be making money in a very strange way.
your stuff is awesome!
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member of *childrensillustrator
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The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one's clean linen in public.
~"The Importance of Being Ernest," Oscar Wilde.
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The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one's clean linen in public.
~"The Importance of Being Ernest," Oscar Wilde.
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