Agatha Abernathy slapped clay on a wheel and spun with her bare hands all manner of things to hold in your mind. She slept through thunderstorms as if a storm front were a blanket. There was no such thing as too many cats; and marmalade was a condiment.
Agatha had nothing to say.... And nothing to keep to Herself.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 10:40 PM UTC
Agatha Abernathy slapped clay on a wheel and spun with her bare hands all manner of things to hold in your mind. She slept through thunderstorms as if a storm front were a blanket. There was no such thing as too many cats; and marmalade was a condiment.
Agatha had nothing to say.... And nothing to keep to Herself.
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