Tuesday, 26 May 2015 | Views [163] | Scholarship Entry
My hands felt gritty with sweat and grime from the pig pen. Ascending the narrow, wooden stairs, I wiped my hands on the cleaner leg of my jeans, taking care to avoid the pristine, woven scarf that the farmer had pressed into my hands as we left her home.... Read more >
Tags: 2015 Writing Scholarship
