By: Harrison Maxwell Peter Haines The Pastor’s hand slipped through the holy water nimbly, like the babbling tide of blood filled oceans. Baptised in autumn he stands in the rain, droplets sketch his lips and drown his dark green irises….
By: Harrison Maxwell Peter Haines The Pastor’s hand slipped through the holy water nimbly, like the babbling tide of blood filled oceans. Baptised in autumn he stands in the rain, droplets sketch his lips and drown his dark green irises….