“What is the Moon, Becca?” I looked up at her, expecting a straightforward answer.
My dad always brushes off how “good” at words he is. “I’m not a writer like you, Becca” he grumbles, when I have asked him to read my blog…
Welcome to the world little mockingbird
Dear Harper,
Working on the Magdalen ( a shameless plug I won’t apologise for) has taught me so…
Sweaty palms. Pounding heart. Awkward Small talk.