The light is beautiful, yet I cannot see it. My brows are knit into a familiar pattern. How can the pendulum swing so far? Can it be trusted to swing back? What of this hope of trust - is it not anything more than a desire to feel some semblance of control in a sea … Continue reading Scabs – knitting and stitching.
What will be left when I have dreamt all of my dreams? When I have made all the journeys? When I have gone down all of the roads that I have imagined? When I have lost all that I have had and have gained all that I may? What remains when all of the important … Continue reading Requiem (for Sia)
I know him well. He lurks in the shadows. He hides behind the bushes. His footsteps are silent and it is easy to believe that he is not really there. He resides in the extra muffin in the staffroom. His playground is in the cold wind that stops you form snowshoeing. He sleeps in the … Continue reading Saboteur