At the end of the world there is a swing, and it teeters back and forth. Continue reading “The Swing At The End Of The World”
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Without Me
Let us go dancing, and pore over old love letters. Continue reading “Without Me”
By Miri Elm
At the end of the world there is a swing, and it teeters back and forth. Continue reading “The Swing At The End Of The World”
Let us go dancing, and pore over old love letters. Continue reading “Without Me”