He was standing in an old road, rutted and ancient, that wound up a black hill towards the sky, where a great flock of black birds was gathering. The birds were like black letters against the grey of the sky. He thought that in a moment he would understand what the writing meant. The stones in the ancient road were symbols foretelling the travelers journey.
29 March 2010
When death trembles
"We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." - Charles Bukowski
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