Neither dying hope nor dwindling beauty occupied the attention of the boy sitting on a bench across the pond from the Palace of Fine Arts. He didn’t waste a worry on these things, partly due to his age, but mostly because on this day, he was not alone. […]
Lucas J. Draeger
Banish me to a dark corner, chain me to a keyboard, and I will gladly be a word slave. I'd sit there all day, with only an occasional demand for a coffee break.
I'm a would-be (wanna be) author, middle aged, fairly repressed, but extremely BLESSED with an amazing wife and two brilliant boys.
For several years, I've been haunted by images of the starving, drug addicted, victimized teens of the streets. I write about them a lot.