Poem, Sagas, Short story, Weekend

Jeg lytter.

Listen to the sounds of silence as the walls come tumbling down.

Continue reading “Jeg lytter.”

Sagas, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

The old mill [archive].

Further away than our village limits, even beyond the lonely farms, the river Quith rolls off the mountains and down the steepest hills. Upon the hill which holds the Quith is a mill from ages past. A giant water wheel was there with spinning stones both thick and vast. And as the waters came to pass, they went back to the same, they turned with speed that giant wheel and joined the Quith again. Continue reading “The old mill [archive].”