And at the end of each day, I return from my late afternoon meander along the beach, to find my hair matted and knotty. Bustled by the busy wind, rushing past in a hurry, on a mission, somewhere important to get to.
At the tender age of 9, a wild scottish woman (a friend of my parents'), convinced me, without a hint of a doubt that my name was Alice Flossy Pumpernickel.
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1 comment:
such a pretty prose piece flossy ... reminds me to take a stroll ...
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