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An escapism occasionally fraught with danger. One night when I was five years old, we drove past a house that was on fire. The fire made the rest of the scene seem so much blacker- the only thing I could see was the fire. It was all through the house, it must have been, because it was spewing out of both the front windows, tendrils a metre and a half high. The front door was a just a rectangle through which fire glowed at the edges.

The Little Black Box to Detect the Voices of Those Aboard the Flight of the Creative Endeavours and Coming of Age of Mr. Another Blog Few Will See. But what about my support? Posted in The Little Black Box. In My Head There is a Room. Posted in The Little Black Box.

La pencée guide l,esprit et les actes. Clique ici pour poster un commentaire en étant identifié avec ton compte Skyrock. Et un lien vers ton blog ainsi que ta photo seront automatiquement ajoutés à ton commentaire.

Across the river, we boarded a two day boat to Luang Prabang. As seems to always be the case, the boat was full of French people. One found my sister amusing, and grabbed my camera to photograph her. French cameramen cant resist Kathryn? The view from the breakfast table was pleasant. Enjoyed photographing a bloated corpse that floated past.