short story
sacred
complaints
religious thoughts
born in the wrong era
timeless trampede
so little sacred
never going anywhere
price on the priceless
grounding
fantasy art

 

 

 

 

 

Often, I have believed I'd been born in the wrong era. An era of machines that set us free, that allowed women, finally, to chisel their own path, to be alone, to be independent. An era of machines that kept us chained, that erased the last of the open spaces, the last chance to roam widely, forever across the earth. Often, I have believed I'd been born in the wrong era, the era where there were only pockets of wild clinging desperately to the earth.

© 1990 - 2003 Katharina Woodworth