![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|
![]() |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||||||||||
A Web Page for Charles A. Gramlich |
|
![]() |
![]() |
|||||||||
one finds many things, dust and empty tin whistles, the wheels off a hundred matchbox cars, a mother's face and the whisper of silk, that passed away. It is a world of tombs, of coffins, filled with bones and stones and sins. And it's always quiet there, in the memory of ruins. |
![]() |
![]() |
||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
|||||||||||
My Writing |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||||||||||
Musings |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||||||||||
|
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||||||||||
View |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
|||||||||||
11/15/06 |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() | |||||||||||
Copyrights - Content:CAG and Layout:GN |
![]() |
|||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |