24 year old freelance writer. Writing on everything from politics, poetry, fiction, economics and beyond.
Upon a great desk it sits; in the center of a magnificent office, day after day. The scratching of a pen breaks the silence; delicately scrawling signatures across the surface of its pages, the ink cascading into rows of letters and numbers, determining where the money will flow. Pages of blank cheques and notepaper, bound together tightly in a small black booklet, would be leafed through and dictated in various amounts every second Thursday. The golden lettering almost seemed an insult to the scant sums their lines held.