windfarm En un lugar de La Mancha, driving along an empty motorway, we see giants on the horizon. Full tilt we race towards them. Long arms whirl and sharp blades slice the air. We hear aeolian music serenading Dulcinea. Share this: Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to print (Opens in new window) Print More Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket Like Loading... Related Author: don't confuse the narrator Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion View all posts by don't confuse the narrator
don't confuse the narrator 
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