She strutted down Main Street like a Parisian model. Her designer dress wasn’t purple; it was aubergine. Her shoes weren’t high heels; they were Manolo Blahniks. Jaws dropped as she…
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Writer’s World
I do not hear American singing, only lonely cries I hear, Those of the retiree, forced to work as a cashier at Home Depot, not as it should be, exhausted…
Welcome to the first (and possibly last) edition of Three Hashtag Thursday, where I tell the story of a throwback picture in three hashtags. Please bear with me as I…