I am the heir of irony. I am purple-wise violet blabbery, cause I might be a royalty. I am paradoxical, the humbleness of gluttony. I am a fire ant- tiny bite makes you rusty. I am pebbles in the bush, a stone moldy. I am sugary sweet then Tabasco spicy. I am nine thirty seven a-m, eight of January. I am a riddle hidden in the remedy. Saying Goodbye to a Secret Bookstore. On Brazenhead Books, the clandestine, one-of-a-kind New York bookshop. Rsquo;s new short story.

Pneumonia Strikes and the Admission of Weakness. One would think that I should have become accustomed to respiratory problems by now, considering I become seriously ill from a related illness usually once a year. I tend to forget, maybe deep down I deny it, and of course meet the reminder when illness comes creeping with anger.

Amateur scientist, professional art librarian, sculptor-in-training,. Introverted, over-educated, vegan with a gun. None of these images are mine unless indicated.

Meet Me in Provence by Teleflora. 705 Kingston Road Unit 14.