In the midst of bleak January, five adult children and their two childlike parents packed themselves into two cars, packed all of their belongings into one suitcase and seven bursting ‘knapsacks’* and jetted off for some sunny R&R. Here’s a relatively accurate account of our travels, filled with artistic licence and a flair for the satirical.
The waves tumble forward - as waves tend to do - the rocks roll back then root themselves in sunken grandeur they are the splendour of the sand lineaments of lineage forgotten yet remembered in the imprint of our footprints. Press, sink, root, rise rhythm of these tides and tied-up feet interlaced I watch the… Continue reading Long Strand
Real Heroes Eat Brioche and other things I write on my phone
And with this list, I thee purge…
The skin on my back is itchy and beginning to peel - a day's tanning turned to waste and patchworked peach. It is noon here in Rethymno and the sun is fat and hot in the sky. In the interest of being a grown up - and surviving to be an actual grown up -… Continue reading And with this list, I thee purge…
Slump, Munch, Die
I love that I always feel I need to justify my blogging absence over the past months, as if I'm not just writing into the void, to fill a void, to void what real life cannot. As if this is anything other than literary narcissism. And yet, to the two people (I am forever the… Continue reading Slump, Munch, Die