<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Scribbler | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Solivagant</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Scribbler</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776050723</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Cafe</title>
			<description>There was a man with a fedora he was reading literature outside the cafeI didn't know whether to ask him kindly for a cigarette or to ask him to keep his raspy voice downMy mother was the same way either she'd ask for somethingor she'd hate you for somethingand I'd be damned if I were herSo I stood ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Solivagant/1428027/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Dirt</title>
			<description>I watch as her boots kick up dirt.She slides her feet across the roadand I am the one to taste the dirt firstHer body is moving eagerly to the silenceher body picks ups it's defianceshe's violent yet light as she's dancingand I am patient with the night and with my glancingThen suddenly the flows in..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Solivagant/1427716/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>October</title>
			<description>Don't you hate it? I sure do.You tried to hone a rusted razor that you had set aside for moments like those.Although, those moments haven't seen much of you lately.I suppose that's why it's rusted.It's still painful, no matter how old.In the mean time I set up camp outside our homedo you remember th..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Solivagant/1427695/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>