“
Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of my
...more
”
― The Road
― The Road
“
Art is the earliest form of encryption.
”
―
―
A place to discuss all the unique aspects of Deaf culture as highlighted in the thriller Silent …more
1,742 members,
last active 5 days ago
Martin is the author of a collection of seven short stories collectively called 'The Animal Para…more
2 members,
last active 15 years ago
This global discussion group has been designed to encourage debates about important and underrep…more
26,419 members,
last active 22 hours ago