Outer Hebrides: Father and Son and … The word content lodges in my brain. Like sticky willies in a deer’s fur. One is missing but always with us. Share this:Share Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram Like Loading...
Poetry by Nathalie 