| A Micro Graphic Novel Project |
| chips |
| By erin blakemore |
| http://www.livejournal.com/users/onlyemarie |
|
|
| The gloves were rough against my fingers. |
|
| Sawed-off wood smells like friction and future fires. |
|
| The bark crackled down beneath me. |
|
| Potato chips would go good with my wood chips some evening. |
| List all stories |
