"Always wanted one," I said to you, fingering the wooded dark brown record player in the store. We had met in Spanish class that day. That's a lie, you'd say, if you were reading this story. I'd noticed you first through the window of my class that morning. And we didn't really meet until afterwards,... Continue Reading →
*when you read this, know that it was written for you - played to the tune of Bon Iver, of course, For Emma, Forever Ago... because how could it not be?* Emma, you beautiful person, The date is 04/03/2012, or I guess - if it's in your language: 03/04/2012. As promised and produced, Enjoy. (You're... Continue Reading →
You know what I love about America, you said, while we walked the Spanish cobblestone in Seville. What? I grinned, my head bobbing on your shoulder. How loud you all are, you mused. Not even just in your speech – but in your clothes, too. You pointed to a group of tourists, gawking lazily near... Continue Reading →
Lindsey Hall Writes 