By Ivo Vacca
Of that moment, specifically, my memories are fragmented. Really, it wasn’t the noise, it was more about … the smell …, of creation. Infinite debris of one piece. Sure, If you observe that specific moment, it may seem a disruptive act. I don’t know if it was right or wrong what I did, but from that moment all of you start to believe in me. After all, I just slammed my fist on the table.
“I write for work, often for fun. Writing drabbles is the second one.” – the writer