There is a chair that nobody sits on, tucked away under a window in a corner of the bedroom. It holds some bedding — blankets, a comforter, maybe even some folded sheets — in a pile which has become a warm hammock for the cats. Nobody has the heart to move it, or them.
Distraction-free reading. No ads.
Organize your knowledge with lists and highlights.
Tell your story. Find your audience.
Read member-only stories
Support writers you read most
Earn money for your writing
Listen to audio narrations
Read offline with the Medium app
Photographer, recovering bourgeois, coffee lover & multidisciplinary geek. Photo-genre best described as “Erratica”. Social: linktr.ee/bruce.walker
