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Someone had shown me a page on the internet where writers could have their stories analyzed, seeing whose work their piece was similar to. Normally, I only went on the computer to find apartment listings and pornography.
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Maybe she was crying before she got on the coach at Marble Arch, settled in the seat across from me, but by the time we reach Victoria Gate, tears stream down her face, mouth open to receive her own sacrament.Indian, ageless in tasteful floral, a blue sweater despite summer…
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Madison was not stupid, just uncultured. She knew nothing of England, but decided to travel from New York to Warwickshire to see Shakespeare's grave. She hoped to capture some sort of magic from seeing the playwright's tomb...
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