A pub with no name.A Poem by andrew mitchell
In the flow
of liquid amber drunken thoughts gather no sense in an orchestrated stutter the reflection from the empty glass shines on in the dimly lit mind sitting in the corner. © 2019 andrew mitchellReviews
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10 Reviews Added on March 31, 2019 Last Updated on March 31, 2019 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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