chocolate laughing eyes, terrible at chess, paraplegic, a reader of poetry and a complete and utter flirt. he rolled around like he owned the place, and treated every girl he knew as though she were just seconds from being kissed.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.
1 comment:
Great start, great post! Welcome to the project.
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