CONTENT LIBRARY

The Fruits of Our Labour

In the park one autumn day, when the beaten path could no longer contain me, tackling the bracken upon the wooded bank, I sought to learn what this world could be, should we be at home with the Earth.

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Nightmares

How can those men sleep at night, the ones who go and abandon children? Their hearts should be back in time for tea but instead the children’s plates are empty.

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