Stuck In Scared

If I were sat on concrete throughout the day, curled cold in a doorway at night. If stone were my pillow, cardboard my sheet, and my bl...

It would be impossible to write this post without sounding like I'm blowing my own trumpet, because the events of the two (short, I...

My God, I needed to write today. Yesterday. All of last week.  If ever there was a ramble (or 10) waiting to come out, it's now. I...

Kimmie x Related post...  Marie's Voice... the story behind the pic

Father, God,  Please help the world's refugees. All who's lives have been torn apart by conflict,  forced to leave their...

My friend, Lizzi (who is a beautiful bean) is trying to help her friend, Jenny (who is, by all accounts, also a beautiful bean). Jenny ...

I wanted to (tried to) write something new for #1000speak this month, it's a stunning movement, and one I feel incredibly proud to be a ...

*** SOMEBODY'S SON Snow falls, blanketing the Town  Somebody's son is cold  his hands are froze to b...

Once upon a time (1970 to be exact) in a children's home in England, run by an order of nuns called 'The Poor Sisters Of Naza...