Christine Chrisman

Writer & Artist

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Beyond the darkness of the mystery find the light of your true heart.


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Loosing Touch

So last June I took a part time job, I know this is the right path for me. I couldn’t have predicted that, logically I didn’t want that, but intuitively it was the...


Songs and Cars

The first car I remember driving in is a 1970’s blue MG convertible with a tonneau cover in black. I don’t remember any songs from that car. Just the heat of the black...


Summer Memories

The clouds spun lazy over head, moving like slow sweet cream. Blowing west to east away from the sun and heading towards Mt. Lassen, twice faded into the background blue. Her butt...


The Black Overcoat

She came rushing up to the coffee house tables clicking boot heels on cobble stones  and a black overcoat like wings. “Be a good chap and piss off, won’t you?” She put her...


Friendship lights it up

In various astrology posts that I follow it seems that super negative energy flowers through our reality. We can see it, the acts of terrorism that pop up everywhere…in the...


For Christopher

She felt limp, like a wrung out sponge smelling of mildew. Slightly nauseated. But surprisingly together. She sat, knees curled to one side in the corner of the charcoal velvet...


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