Some years later. He pulls the peacoat collar up over his ears and, head down, takes heel to the bottom of the street. Folk still whisper as he passes, but less so these days. They grow old, they float away, they die. He lives with the memories of that night; the sky more white star … Continue reading The Lookout.
May 10th 2019 Waking, beneath the domed ceiling of the Picardy Hotel, to the sound of knocking on the room door. It is Graham T. His shirt is heavily stained with blood. He has been in a knife fight. I am so concerned that I don't think to ask him how he comes to be … Continue reading dream diaries…64
I took the train home from the airport. It was the same journey as it had been earlier, except that now it was in reverse and I was alone, reflecting. The cloud was cold against the glass, a jet plane rose into the cumulus brew. I set my face, my ear really, against the window … Continue reading American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.
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