For I am a peddler of words lost in space and time filling in gaps of insignificance to outright the inconceivable.
When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can. ~Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 1842
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Zephyrean Summer
Voila bellas!
My hair flair is right on ready for this year's summer scorch!
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