September
The photos of mine I like most are the ones which serve as a springboard for words or stories. I never push it. If it comes, it comes. But sometimes
Tag: words
July
Writing this on a cold, wet and windy Christmas eve it is hard to imagine the balmy sunshine we had in early July in this year’s summer. There were about three weeks of wall-to-wall
The room welcomed me alone
The bed had one plump pillow and another that felt sad. The duvet had a half that lay there flat.The room welcomed me alone and never heard me laugh.
Germans
Where I come from waiting for the green man to appear before you decide to cross the road just does not happen. It is not uncommon to see mothers push
press 1
I knew the phone would be passed to me. I knew this once she took the call. She showed me the caller ID as it rang and vibrated in her
Someday I will just drop off this world
When I was a child in school the teacher told us the world was not flat, that it was round. I had never thought of the world having shape. He
My music box of dreams has unwound
When I was little my mother would stand on our doorstep and watch me walk down the hill on my way to school. My schoolbag was made of old, brown
No dread of hello
Leaving, like so much it is the anticipation. The dread. The slow build to those goodbyes. Once they’re done, you have not left, you have arrived. The familiar faces are
this breath in my chest unchewed
this noise behind has the glass vibrating the dust in the sunlight dancing but it quietens a shadow glides past and has me frightened no words i heard have me
this nagging knowingness
a clippety clop it goes this nagging knowingness a drip-dropping aloneness a still-of-night remoteness a head-flopping heaviness this nagging knowingness a shrunken world below us a carved-out hollowness within us