Megan WrightWomen of GloryThe air was crisp, the sky bright — a colour that spoke of change; not the friendly blue of summer, nor the ice of winter. It was the kind…Apr 21, 2016Apr 21, 2016
Megan WrightInk drops in waterIt’s dreary. Dry, but dreary. The wind’s as sharp as the buildings’ edges — the only defining features in a meld of grey; the heavy sky…Feb 29, 2016Feb 29, 2016