It was probably well acquainted with the floor. Continue reading Cigarettes, Sound and Vision.
For me, endings always come in two forms. There are endings which form an armoured sense of closure; a neat, happy sigh in which you can leave behind a project or a part of your life. Gladly turning away to let it rest. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Endings
One thing you will learn as you grow up, is that most people bloom half formed, incomplete without a counterpart. Craving that cut-along-the-dotted-lines silhouette which deems them complete. Without this, they are five out of the ten segments of an orange, or a glass of wine half empty. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Half Formed People
You board several trains a night, fraught with lilac mist. Blood oranges suspended above the walkway illuminate the path. Machines that blink white churn out Morse conversations. This language, the backdrop of the otherwise blank soundscape of the night. The sky is a milky pool, dizzying to look upwards when you feel you are looking down. The platform: angular and shrouded in geometry, as the silver body of the snake arrives upon the tracks and slows to a halt. It doesn’t chug, but glides silent and serpentine. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: The Night Train
After we split side to side, she said, ‘you know making love is an act of freedom. You have to do it with all your heart, or it will never feel right.’ Continue reading My Father’s Tie
I have looked at the sky at different times. It has been bright during the day, and starless dark late at night. I have stared at the sky while the winter wind whipped my cheeks, but I have also gazed at it when the summer sun toasted them tenderly. The truth is there is no special time to stare at the sky, except when the moon and stars are gloriously out for unusual attention. The sky is barely an evidence of change unlike us, the land-dwelling creatures. Continue reading The Sky Is Not What Changes
Beth owns two cats. Beth owns two cats, and every morning, once she has fed her cats she gets the 8:21 bus to work. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: A Yellow Raincoat in The Sorrento Sunshine