Tag: Doe
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Grapes on the vine
He paces. Stone weeps at the beat of his leathery feet. Overwhelmed by a single thought. All furniture moved against the walls—no obstacles for his mind. Grapes grow on the vine; such tender fruit tempts the man. He lays his cardigan on the window sill. An extended arm reaches out the window. A handful of…
Conor Cartmell 