My first memories are conflicting and I’m not sure if one of them was imposed after looking at a photograph so long and so often it wore thin, like the memory.
Memory number one is in black and white, of me in my dad’s arms holding a sugar cube out to a pony.
Memory number two is bright and painful, the feeling of a belt on the back of my legs and my dad’s words coming out in a snarl, “I wouldn’t be stuck here if it wasn’t for you.”
I know the one I prefer.
I know the truth.
Neville Hunt about 5 years ago
Agree with Drew, a terrific series concept. Welcome to Drablr from me too!
Peter Henderson about 5 years ago
Hehehe....I loved it