When Chalk Leaves the Sidewalk

Where do we go when the echos leave the halls; When the chalk leaves the sidewalk. When the leaves stop whistling in the wind? Emptiness fills a void we don’t even know was there. Full of apathy, lacking empathy, we don’t care. We have cared too much and too long about the obsolete That the…

Boredom Strikes Again!

After finishing decorating the lair, there isn’t many more projects I can do bedside. Diego came over yesterday and hung my twinkly lights, which was quite the task. I helped him by handing him thumb tacks and the “smacker”, which was a wooden level that my grandmother had in her belongings before she passed away…