Mama J Had a Typewriter
The clack of the keys became a comforting rhythm, a way to channel the restless energy of my young mind. Soon, the typewriter became my escape—a tool to make sense of the chaos swirling around me.
The clack of the keys became a comforting rhythm, a way to channel the restless energy of my young mind. Soon, the typewriter became my escape—a tool to make sense of the chaos swirling around me.