Not white laces with black shoes
My eyes twitched. The eyelids and lashes seemed incapable of independent movement. How long had I been asleep? Had I been asleep? Like paper tearing my eyes began to open.
Tag: writing
Fun for everyone, but not for me
We thought we would take the group therapy to a new level. It was not my idea. I was never one for ideas, well not new ones. Often, just to
A decent man
I guess I can appear strange to onlookers when they see me taking photographs of blank walls or raindrops forming on car roofs. It is something I am aware of
facing it all
I was in class yesterday. To the left of my desk through the window is this little green area with rows of young trees and paths on either side. The
Hoods
I first met Fred on a cold, winter’s day in a second hand record store. I could not help but notice him, his inflated head bop-bopping along to the tune
How these words weigh
There is a conversation in my head. I am not sure it can be heard. I am not sure of its words. I don’t stop to listen; it’s just heard.
She puts them in bags in the clouds
The photo below is a coloured-in version of a previous upload. See it above. This was taken in early April in Busan, South Korea. I was in a public park.
like some sort of over-vigilant ward
shoes? these aren’t shoes. these are stone bricks. stone bricks stuck to me. try as i might, and I do try, i can’t move off. and you, you there, always
Sad weather?
When I lived in Spain my Spanish friends would say to me that Irish weather must be very sad, what with all the rain we get. Sad? Never had I
Flowers die: Electronic images live forever
Last Saturday, we went to Cobh, a small island to the east of Cork city. We lived there before for a short period before moving back to the city. It
Continue reading…Flowers die: Electronic images live forever