5th August

She is old, frail, can't string a sentence together. She doesn't recognise me. I read her stories - she used to read them to me -, about a gypsy girl who keeps saying "I don't belong here". I feel guilty. She sleeps. I hope my voice is comfort to her, on some level, while she's... Continue Reading →

2nd March 2019

When I have a drink in bed, the mattress could be anything, a raft, an island, a flying carpet. 8pm in bed on a Saturday night? In my 20s I swore I'd party my whole life. I was right. Except now the party isn't a Saturday night, the party is in my soul. It's gratitude... Continue Reading →

5:30am 22nd February 2019

She realised she must be grateful for fucked up shit. They were still alive. Impossible thought! But in the early morning, she felt a new day. Blessing. The smell of onions on her washed hands was life now. They cooked together. Some days they chanted, cross-legged, closed-eyes, holding hands. Other days he'd walk. Deep breaths.... Continue Reading →

9th February 2019

You uplift me. I say, I'm terrified. You listen with shimmering eyes. Listen humbly as always. We acknowledge not wanting to cause pain in the other. Your brown hand scarred with tiny pale circles of light skin, from burns, digs fingers into your scalp amongst speckled grey, beautiful-black dreadlocks. That hair. Smells of comfort, of... Continue Reading →

25th June 2018

Laid on her bed the breeze soft on her shoulders, she heard his voice out the window talking to a neighbour and jumped up to see him. Moonlight shone on Papa's dreadlocks. He waved. She copied. A forgotten memory caught in her chest. One from when she was four, five, six, of waiting to see... Continue Reading →

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