Often, I am the mercy of my internal critic. It waxes and wanes like tides under the influence of a full moon. Each word of my creations eroded by the crashing waves of scrutiny. 95 more words
Tags » Athena
The wind was wrong.
Ben had always been able to read the wind. Where other people felt the brush of the wind, heard it howling through the narrow streets, to Ben the wind had always been a visible thing, a twisting dance of light and texture meant only for him. 1,347 more words