Excerpted from The Little Black Book of Suicide Notes I always imagined roaming the streets of Paris and sitting in the quaint outdoor cafés that Hemingway and Gertrude Stein frequented. A Moveable Feast coming alive. The only feast I ended up having was alone in a...
Glimpses of thoughts of “Notes from the Beyond” I’m dead. Now what? Sometimes I think about finding that light they speak of at the end of the tunnel that I self-created. Sometimes I think about who that “I” really is that created that...
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