A Note On “Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl,” by N.D. Wilson
Stand and stare into the sky. Crane your neck back so far till the only thing within your gaze is crystal blue. Or maybe it’s crimson rouge, shot through with…
Writer. Wonderer. Wanderer.
Stand and stare into the sky. Crane your neck back so far till the only thing within your gaze is crystal blue. Or maybe it’s crimson rouge, shot through with…