Tag Archives: Martin Conte

September

If the taste of tea was a house, how would the wallpaper look? I do not mean metaphor. I mean look, at your taste of tea, say, a ruddy Earl Grey, and tell me its textures, its colors. I sit … Continue reading

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My Narrator Moves In With Me

When he first snuggled up in bed next to me, I was dreaming of a girl who may be my Muse. That first night, I just slid against the wall, hid my face, and let him stay. In the morning, … Continue reading

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