The changing light of the sea
There he was swirling on the patio, filtered by the syrupy light of the last evening sun. Love him as I do, but seeing him, there was the most jarring effect.
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France
She who roams by the cemetery
I don’t know whether the woman who roams by the cemetery is Romany, but she is very much lost.
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Annulé
The odd car careers around the twist in the road. Another slows hauntingly, to check whether I’m a ghost.
From sardines to sang froid
As gusts swirl, the mastheads clamour for attention, like the percussion section in a school orchestra.
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