Jess I’m sorry I bought you strawberries. I fed you their scarlet hearts on summer-scorched grass, transfixed by […]
flash nonfiction
For years he watched squirrels scramble, trucks drive by, barked at bicycles and chased after sticks. But this […]
Although you wouldn’t really guess that from the amazing photo we’ve used here, it’s largely wet and miserable […]
I sat behind you in human sexuality class, the curled ridge of your ear exposed. If I had […]
What happens in the place between light and dark, where one thing is changing into another? Join The […]
We’re delighted to announce that Joanna Kavenna will headline our next The Real Story: Live event at Gulliver’s, […]
His wife died unexpectedly. She dropped dead in the shower. He found her. She hardly drank, never smoked, […]
And I walk with abandonment, want to walk it off. Needing to distract myself. I anaesthetise myself with my child. I feed her. I change her. I play with her. I comfort her in the night. This night is different. She’s not here. I can’t anaesthetise myself from life. I can’t distract myself. I think – mental pain suffuses me. I take pictures – this distracts me. And maybe it’s true of everyone. We distract ourselves not to feel.