When the Room Is Empty
I haven’t been sleeping well lately.I go to bed late.I write late.I think too much. I look at the numbers.They are small.They make more noise in my head than they should. Sometimes I feel like I’m playing in an empty…
Journal of the Atelier
A space to speak what doesn’t fit into narratives.
A writing journal. An open workshop.
Notes, impulses, doubts — and perhaps, in these pages, stories waiting to be born.
O, Like an Imprint
Read too young, perhaps.A summer afternoon, a thunderstorm, no television.A raging ocean outside.A dusty old trunk of books, alone in my grandmother’s attic, waiting for the moment I could return to the beach. At the very bottom.Under La Bicyclette Bleue.Below…