A Writing Lesson From a Dying Old Man

Photo by mari lezhava on Unsplash

Slowly, with ancient muscles straining, bones cracking like broken twigs; he raised his balding head and tired eyes, blue and bloodshot to meet the purity of the horizon, a cloudless, simple blue; then returned his gaze to the worn volume, of faded brown and gold leather, set heavy atop tattered gray cloth, on…

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Jeff Wild

Jeff Wild

An old freak looking for a way to survive in a world I no longer understand, but through my writing, pretend I do.