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EmmaeArkay

About EmmaeArkay

There once was a man from the East,

Who liked poetry the least,

With limericks he'd play,

Chased deep meaning away,

Till all profound poetry ceased.
Interests
Unconscious spasms of creative writing
Occupation
Student and Night Shepherd


I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights