Chekhov’s Gun

stippled clouds at sunrise over Victoria, South Australia boder

I sit on the floor in my room with my back to the wall. The weather is stinking hot, but it’s cooler down low. I type this on my antiquated laptop as my childhood teddy bear stares at me from atop my bookshelf. I ponder the musings of the great Anton Chekhov: “If you say … Continue reading Chekhov’s Gun