Sweat and hands and passion shape an uncarved block * in his name; his reputation ensured by your devotion. * Each success bruising her affection. Each denial inflaming her desire. * Each stroke carving a future punctuated by unheard screams. * For who would believe this frail woman capable of such wonders?
Rockall Mugs | Will… on It’s Pissing Down On… | |
Peak 3 (Stillborn) |… on Alderley Edge | |
erroneouschoices on Brittle (for Greg) | |
hana on Succotash | |
Will on Nairn |
Recent Comments