I keep finding these

All over my house, in notebooks and on pieces of paper are written poems and stories.

I keep finding them as I sort through boxes that haven't been unpacked since we moved in, back in April 2004. Most of them were buried in a wardrobe, which has since been demolished and taken for recycling at the local tip.

So, now you have the rants and the short story about a woman who liked being behind bars. Or something like that.

Read, think and comment.

purplesimon out...