He left the house one evening and walked the coast road toward Weston. Occasionally he would hear a vehicle in the distance and as the sound grew closer he would stand at the roadside, raking his hair, straightening his coat, waiting its appearance. And as it drew near, he'd snap out a thumb and with … Continue reading Funky Town.
There is little in the way of illumination beyond the come hither of the one-arm bandit, the dim bulbs and the fluorescents striping in repeat in the mirror behind the teak. She works the tables, throwing hello, hello, hello. He orders a drink and he admires her over the rim. Eventually, she nudges him at … Continue reading Grotesque The Glass.
[cut-up postcard poetry] [paper scissors glue] [fictional piccolo creative] I bought a stack of National Geographic at Southwell market from a man who sold old mirrors, and reworked frames, among other things - including, an accordion of pale spines: Nabokov, Orwell and Greene (clasped at each end in a heavy bronze palm); old slates of … Continue reading Jigsaw Cousin (it rained that night)
nickreeves 