http://slow.writerscafe.org/GiraffesinParis The original writings of author James Jackson en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776102877 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Anthony woke up first. His mouth was dry and he wasnaked. He was confused as to why he was naked until the events of last nightcame back into his head. He got up to go use the bathroom but two powerful armsheld him in place. Roberto was big spoon, cuddling with him.    .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1505415/ “Where have you been? You have missed our weekly meetingtwice in a row.”            “Iknow, dad. I’m sorry. Something came up.”            It wasa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1505412/ Anthony woke up. The first thing he felt was a massiveheadache.             “Argh,f**k.” he commented. It felt like a thousand jackhammers were going off in hishead. He groaned in misery.      &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1505367/ Anthony was on a late night jog through Chavez Heightsin East Los Angeles, a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood. It was not foreignterritory for him, it was his constituency. He had been the city councilor fromthis district for about five months. It was a hotly contested race, he wasfacing .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1503257/ Anthony is a up and coming politician from a storied family and Roberto is second in command of the biggest gang on the West Coast. A chance encounter one night brings the two together. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1503256/ I wrote this during the first year I was diagnosed with depression. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1419847/ Only once have I had the chance to strollThis strip of urban movementCalling to me on a TuesdayI went there to check it outFollowed my heart to the Q trainIt didn’t like my companyBarked at me with a fiercenessI can only explain as “madness” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1417816/ Comes from places unexpectedA dark alleyA rooftopA crunched leaf under your sneakerIt can spawn something beautifulLike a poemOr a paintingIts not about what comes out of itBut what it brings IN http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1417812/ The howling coldThe perpetual emptinessThis is what it must feel likeThe branches wave at meAnd I return the gestureWondering if I brightened their day http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GiraffesinParis/1417757/