although this was impossible.

When I was a kid (and sometimes still), i could reach and touch the walls (and the ceiling) from my sheeted bed - although this was impossible. And then, with an advance unstoppable, my bed, the ceiling and the walls could all be touching me. And somewhere still there was (and is) the thrill of … Continue reading although this was impossible.

A Thimble.

Tonight, laying in our bed - feet beached in sheets, salt beads on our brows, salt beads on our cheeks - the thought again about leaving. It was fleeting, like the lighthouse beam that plays across the headland, plays across the bay. The beam that threads the walls of this charmed room is a silken … Continue reading A Thimble.

And When I Sleep, Luella. [v]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

She retreated an inch within and the piss porcelain and wet paper towels and the shit littered tiles and her size seven boot, printing damp jam to the door of the lavatory where she found herself, all seemed suddenly quite salubrious. But she wouldn't take a piss in there. Breathed out, rubbed her arms, rubbed … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [v]