“Because of the widespread belief that there was something not quite correct with wayfaring women, the act of walking became a recognized form of defiance.” — Deborah Lutz, The Brontë Cabinet Continue reading Creative Corner: Weird Sisters and Walking Sticks
Being in the midst of a global pandemic and the exam season closing in, means that taking care of your emotional and physical health as well as being kind to yourself has never been more important. Continue reading Creative Corner: Art and Wellbeing
Today I felt time in my cells, in little nooks
And under hairs and sitting on a skintag.
I feel the rasp of my sole, and as I step
my toes crackle on the kitchen floor. Continue reading Creative Corner: The Crumple Lady
Me and my toenails are staying inside.
As I water my feet, with spiced bubbles,
they grow horned edges
that rasp through my socks and make holes Continue reading Creative Corner: Lil Lockdown Toes
The house does not sit so silent as usual – there is the constant hum of activity vibrating from room to room: the creak of jagged soles placing stress on the cracks between the wooden floorboards, the slight brush of skin against 50% polyester 50% cotton, the occasional expulsion of phlegm from the back of the throat (which induces temporary panic before confirming it is not continuous and the body temperature remains below 38°), the muffled opening of a drawer, then the hurried rustling of papers and a frustrated “no” before it is shut again and another is opened, the light tick of fingertips dancing across a keyboard, the screeching of a chair as it rasps against the hard surface, the rattling of keys followed by the metallic click of a hinge swinging up and out, then the high-pitched whistle of someone beckoning a little cat and a disgruntled meow in response as if to say ‘I can’t believe you left me outside for so long’ before proceeding to purr excessively, and then the tiptaptiptaptip of his little paw pads as he saunters away, and sometimes, the ping of a device, a short pause, then a sudden outburst of deep laughter at something upon the screen, oh and the incessant echo of George Ezra’s ‘Shotgun’ on repeat, (I’ll be riding shotgun…underneath the hot sun..), followed by small voices flinging out irrelevant nonsense in alternating frequencies from the radio in the corner, which was supposedly turned on by the woman sat at the dining table in order to be listened to, but after a brief examination of her, it becomes clear that the small voices fall on deaf ears, instead she bends over the needy laptop in front of her, folding her limbs into a smaller mould (and in doing so, submitting to the machine’s demand), and every so often brushes a hand through her thinning (but still immaculately blow-dried) hair as she thinks to herself how she should have got it cut and highlighted before this involuntary cloister began, (..feeling like a someone…), and when asked why she insists on playing the damn thing all day every day despite the lack of interest in it, she meekly replies “because I don’t feel so alone” (for otherwise the silence spreads out like wallpaper speckled with sticky patches – too much glue in some places, others not enough at all). Continue reading Creative Corner: Like One Of Those Films You Could Only Watch Once
God does not reply to letters. I learnt that at the age of seven, waiting for my father to come home. The nights were dark and long and cold, and I wrote by the light of a candle in my tiny back bedroom as I listened to the swell of the sea below. It was a particularly bad winter for storms, and the occasional flash … Continue reading Creative Corner: A Sea Story