Dew Drop

My nose is cold. My heart warm. My fingers like fat sausages inside wet woolen gloves. And my feet in thin socks inside wet wellington boots that are two sizes too big for me. Memories. I never thought I’d be battling with the elements when writing. It’s not like I haven’t an imagination, though. And

Bit.ly is Dead Long Live Bit.ly

I might get in trouble for this. I just gave myself a writing prompt is all and all things on the Internet die eventually. I’m just ahead of my time. Google directory. Dead. Myspace. dead. Demon Internet? 56k Modems dead.286 processors. dead. So on a dreary cold Saturday morning I am going to talk about moving