Stories To Nowhere

It’s fine until I walk away. Ouch. That feels sad. I don’t know why. ‘Because we care but we’re moving on’ and it sounds like a song, but it...

I am usually on the peripheries of entertaining activities; hanging around outside or wandering off. I find it impossibly boring to commit m...

As deemed by stereotype and practice, the British and can find little that is more conducive to conversation than a discussion of the weathe...

The age of technology and fluro-irridescent leggings which has been hampered after, sought after from a past of World Wars and pillaging, Be...

She dropped down, and landed on soft leaves which crushed her fall. Catching her balance on bent knees and one hand, she looked up, to find ...

I ache. Why do I always ache, deep down, in my spine, in the back of the pit in my stomach. I ache I ache I ache. Is this sadness? State of ...

Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale.— Macbeth, Act V S I As Mari sat by the stream, she now had time in pocket to w...

A thump on the mat ‘Thump’. Something deposits itself, crackling and clicking it’s way through the letterbox, and then ‘pfthump’. I don’t bo...

Flowers on street-trees are surreal in an unnoticeable way; they are in a world of their own, an incongruent parallel zone, sitting delicate...

Advertising shows us glittering seas, white beaches and smeary fuchsia bars far from home. The holiday or travelling setup works to provide ...