As I was wandering trough the mystical forest, I heard a voice:
"I will never be able to write a book. I can't hold a pencil and nobody likes my tales."
I wondered where the voice came from. I didn't see anyone. I only saw some trees and a rock

Once I asked whether there was anyone or not, the rock began moving.

When I looked better, I saw a dusty, gray dragon; mourning because he couldn't write.

"Do you want me to write your stories down?", I asked.
"I would be grateful." , the dragon said.


It's the first time that I do this. So it might be really bad.
Also, English isn't my native language, so maybe there are some wrong words.

And maybe this won't be something for me, but at least I try to see if it's something


Welcome! Digging your music, Sibling!

i enjoy the harp. i've been a fan of Dorothy Ashby and Alice Coltrane for years. And i recently discovered a local artist here Oregon, Dolphin Midwives.

And also recently discovered Brandee Younger..

Cheers! 😺🤘🏼

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