When darkness comes;
when doors are locked and windows shuttered;
when she is truly, finally alone;
the Ice Queen retires to her most secret place,
to light a fire and dream of warmer days.
When I turned 34, I decided to write a series of short stories. The only catch? Each story had to be 34 words. 34 years, 34 words. No more, no less. These are the fruits.