
Seeya, Sydney
You cried the day I left. Well, I like to think grey skies and rain spattered across the windshield means I meant something to you. Part of me wants to say you were a detour. But that would be unfair on you and, frankly, inaccurate. My life the novel, and you’re a chapter – no less vital to the story than the ones that preceded you, or the ones that will be … Continue reading Seeya, Sydney