Stories & Poems

In the quiet corridors of the old museum, she realized that memory wasn't built of bricks, but of the empty spaces between them.

Sometimes I walk the city with the sole purpose of seeing the changing colors of the sky. It puts things into perspective.

A fortuitous encounter, love story untold, they feel drawn to each other as the winter unfolds...

Past a thousand souls and judgmental stares, I was falling freely towards the end of a bottomless chasm...