ackroyd-tower

March 7, 2025

He stood beneath the white tower, and looked up at it with that mournful expression which his face always carried in repose: for one moment he thought of climbing up its cracked and broken stone, and then from its summit screaming down at the silent city as a child might scream at a chained animal.

Previous
Next

Thought:

“All the books I have written have been one book, from the beginning. The first poem I ever wrote, about loss, when I was five years old, expressed the themes of everything I would ever write.”

Marguerite Young

INSTAGRAM

BANDCAMP

YOUTUBE