Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
Apparently this was it: the prison’s law library. One row of ancient books on a rickety cart. Was that smell despair or just mildew? Probably mildew. The stink of despair was coming from—as they say—inside the house. Did they still call it the Big House? Or was that passé? She much preferred that to slammer… Continue reading The Big House
to discover words opens your mind to wonder and your heart to love Thanks to The Haunted Wordsmith and Sue Vincent for the great photo prompts. In the midst of the chaos of ... well everything, both of these picture reminded me of the sweet calm of my “happy place”--reading. Books really were my first love. The library (and… Continue reading My First Crush
