I hold my phone in my hands and I check every second if you’ve written anything, because I’m worried about you. I don’t know why,…
When you have nobody to talk to
Category: Letters to A.
I warm my cold hands with a hot mug It smells of cloves and cinnamon. With small sips I taste this moment as if it…
I went to confession for the first time in many years. I didn’t see a priest, no bars in the confessional. It was a strange…