A-side every morning I step out onto the patio to listen to the buzzard, my own private morning buzzard somewhere up in the sky calling, or singing, depending on your point of ear… it’s still dark, or almost, with just enough lightening of sky to show which way the day is facing, which means, barely… […]
the tyranny of now (18/11/21)
the tyranny of now (18/11/21)
Jack Tolstoy 