Groundhog Day
As a teen, I lived in my journal. My words were the real me, my true existence, and if I ventured out into other lands, […]
As a teen, I lived in my journal. My words were the real me, my true existence, and if I ventured out into other lands, […]
“He who loves practice without theory is like the sailor who boards ship without a rudder and compass and never knows where he may cast.” […]
I once drove a friend home from a dinner party, and though I wasn’t sure where she lived, I drove confidently for five minutes before […]
It’s a beautiful sketch. I’m certain that Barocci didn’t draw these hands for show, but only to be referenced as elements for his saleable paintings. […]
Although you haven’t heard much from us over the last couple of weeks, we’ve been busy here at Pulp Literature over the holidays. We’ve been […]
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