The Architect of My Dreams.
I close my eyes and the first sound that comes to mind is not the traffic of present-day Caracas—which now lies miles away—but the rhythmic clang of a trowel against the concrete…
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If time were a thread: The December I would change to save a life.
The question posed to us by the Silver Bloggers community this week has struck me like a distant yet persistent echo. Would you like to be able to relive moments from your past…
Why has my heart always stayed positive?
There was something magnetic about the sound of chalk scraping against the green blackboard. Whilst other children saw algebra as a maze of obstacles or a dead language designed…
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