They brush past me and my child in his wheelchair. Hurrying, scurrying. I try not to recoil.
All tagged return
They brush past me and my child in his wheelchair. Hurrying, scurrying. I try not to recoil.
The lilacs on the best corner of the block touched us as we took our walks, their blooms too plump, persuasive.
A total of seventeen hours of flight over three days found us half broken and drained at our doorstep. Our house looked strange.