<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Renee Isabel | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/renee_isabel</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Renee Isabel</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1775985440</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Before The Storm </title>
			<description>prompt: &quot;A storm destroys your uncle's shed and kills his six year old son. Describe the color of the sky rights before the storm hit&quot; -&quot;642 things to write about&quot; by the San Francisco writers' grotto</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/renee_isabel/1415605/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>where we walk</title>
			<description>just a quicky but review would be lovely</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/renee_isabel/1400450/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Anyone?</title>
			<description>I am sitting here in front of the mirror. Naked. All my flaws are exposed. They are exposed to the most judging eyes. My eyes. My two eyes match the two shiny metal pieces. Held together by artificial grips. I find it funny how easy it is to grip that handle. But I can't seem to get a grip on my own..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/renee_isabel/1352357/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>