a vignette
The weird sisters,are writing for their lives,seated at the dining table,heads bowed…
Rust leaves cling, stubborn frames of treesoutline waves of bluemountains in my viewas my mind stretchesdown a long corridor…
His bloodstained cleavers in hunger clanged together,Across the fields of endless…
“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth” -Albert Camus