— Emily Dickinson I sat at my vanity and stuck my tongue out at the mirror. I look like a madman. I pulled my tongue back in and tried to form an honest impression of myself. A pale, fluttery creature stared back at me, clad in airy green chiffon with deep brown waves and cherry lips. She was far...
In London, Walter was what people back in my day called a “juvenile delinquent” (what’s known today as a “troubled teen”). In other words, sometimes he got into things that he really should have avoided. The police (or “bobbies” as they call them over there) delivered Walter to his mum’s doorstep...