Back to the writing…from something I’ve been working on for some time; just a glimpse.
Watching the patterns of men, women and their children reminds me of something I read once, in that last lifetime; an echo of a voice I’d wagered away.
Sincere but poorly made things…
I think Stephen King wrote it. When I’d heard it I had stopped what I was doing and put it on paper. The letters rearranged to images of mortals made of clay.