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Are you there?

All the things that matter to me, mattered to us, Matter so little to anyone else If they even matter at all. It’s all so intimate. Small. No-one but you could ever remember how we sat in that bar. I can try and explain, paint a picture, tell the tale of our joy and the … Continue reading Are you there?

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Mistrust of certainty

I need proof of everything. You say that tastes good but how do I know if I don’t try it too? It’s the same with everything else. You told me don’t do this and don’t do that, it will turn out badly, and what you say might sound like sense, but I don’t know for … Continue reading Mistrust of certainty

Resurrection

It took her a while to know again who she was. That was because she was sleeping and names aren’t needed in dreams. Her name is Loveday. She was named after the street where she was born. She shortened it to Daisy, but she had never felt it belonged to her. Luke shortened it to … Continue reading Resurrection

Time

When I’m bound to the clock I can’t stretch my limbs or my mind. I’d rather know months by the change in the leaves and the hours by the sun and the inaccessible hidden stars. They’re masked by the streetlamps here. Once in ten years, I have seen constellations shine clear. They signify the loss … Continue reading Time

Nan

My Great-Grandmother was a Victorian. When I was five in the 1950s, I went to see her with my Mum and my Nan.  We went to her house in Grove Green Road, London, E11. She had white hair pulled back in a tight bun, a long black skirt and button boots, a crisp white blouse … Continue reading Nan

Jam

‘Why do you always get blackcurrant jam?’ ‘Because it’s sweet but also sharp. I like a little bit of sour.’ ‘Well, try this jam.’ ‘OK. Ahhhh, strawberry. Tastes like a childhood love affair when there were fairies at the bottom of our garden. We grew them there. I forgot how much I like strawberry jam.’ … Continue reading Jam

Is that the wind?

Is that a train or the wind? It’s a wind full of crows flapping their wings over iron gates as black as their feathers. One swoops and I duck.  It just missed my head. Imagine a train full of crows, Suffocating with all those feathers. Something is coming in that wind. Something bigger than crows. … Continue reading Is that the wind?

Masks

In Venice Under the beautiful mask Is there a wonderful face? The skin of their necks looks delicious Youthful and covered in kisses Her fingers bejewelled with stars His thumb on her wrist is possessive. His cravat is ironed and starched. I can only see his dark eyes. The crowds, the music, the singing, The … Continue reading Masks

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