Writing on Wednesdays #7

From a short distance it looked like an installation. Someones forgotten works, from long ago, a hollow frontage, a canvas for some kids to tell a story on. The windows, once openings to gaze through, were filled in, replacements, clumsy and childlike were scrawled over the boards. Some had plants on the windowsill, another had… Continue reading Writing on Wednesdays #7

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