New Brighton

New Brighton - where the sun shines, even when it rains. As he leaves the shadow of the station, Sam is bathed in a sense of being on holiday, of being abroad, of being. The sun shines on New Brighton. He puts on his green shades. The sky is bigger here; the seagulls, unlike the … Continue reading New Brighton

Into The Light.

The dark public bar of the Eight Kings is daubed, this afternoon, with three broad strokes of sunlight pouring through the windows suffusing everything touched with honeyed shafts, crowning shadows. Reflected in the mirror behind the teak jump, among the faces gathered, the smoke, the bottles, the glasses, a caged and colourful fruit machine trills … Continue reading Into The Light.

Something For The Weakened.

Gnashing medication teeth, orange vintage dungarees, hair adorned with plastic beads (and other Keith Richard bits and pieces), Tin Ribs removes herself from the bus and shows her greeting hand to me. The heel of her palm is pink, I don’t know what this means: but, surely, it don’t bode well. Her wrist, of course, … Continue reading Something For The Weakened.