Sharing my ideas with the world and experimenting with writing.
I am a city dweller. I have spent my whole life in a whirlpool of cigarette smoke. The bread of the homeless is my feast. The street artist's guitar music is my lullaby.
By Meldra V.2 years ago in Art
We were eighteen years old. The winds whistled in the north, the sun danced in the south. We lived somewhere in the middle, feeling like we did not quite belong to the wind, nor to the sun. Perhaps we were the long-distant soul daughters of an ant. You see, after all, life can hold many surprises.
By Meldra V.2 years ago in Poets
