A curious woman who writes with a fountain pen, types like the wind to scribble, squiggle, scriggle and toss words into space for no other reason that loving to.
The pen is filled with purple ink and the laptop sits on an antique butcher's table that's hacked up, scratched and abused with perfect vibrations from a life well lived. Tables have a life too.
Finding a place to play with words, rhythm and verse is a treat to unfold. Here I go a scriggling until the cos come home.