We drove down I-95 in a black Nissan Pathfinder that to me felt like stepping into a carriage and my prince was always there at the door offering his hand to help me get in and out. We were headed to his...
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His Place
Category Archives: Memoirs
Arriving In L.A.
I stood at the bus stop on the corner with a 1 large, over-stuffed, black suitcase, and 1 black semi soft guitar case. I looked left, then right and even walked an uncomfortable distance from my bags to the corner to try...
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