My earliest memory is of my father playing the fiddle at a loud wedding, the kind where the dancers are too fast for the beat (Probably the red) and the darkness has been let loose on the candlesticks! Even the spit roasted pig seemed to be smiling, enjoying the honey crakling in his spine.

Ladies clutched my tiny fingers teaching me the heel and toe. The couple shrieked with delight enjoying the shared euphoria.

As a three year old it may well have become my…

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This is the waiting on the platform between age, the girl who woke up and found herself abandoned in a train station feeling naked.
Yes, thats the story, the strange one that ended when she grew up, but oh how she didnt want to grow up! Oh how she hated growing serious and subtle and calculating. "If only" she dreams...."if only i was back at that train station, there it wasnt so bad, it was alienating, but at least i was alive."

This is the waiting on the platform between age, the girl who woke up and found herself abandoned in a train station feeling naked.
Yes, thats the story, the strange one that ended when she grew up, but oh how she didnt want to grow up! Oh how she hated growing serious and subtle and calculating. "If only" she dreams...."if only i was back at that train station, there it wasnt so bad, it was alienating, but at least i was alive."

Slowly I pour the hot water.
Rubbing my eyes I squint into the sun and yawn.
I jump back as a wet sting hits my feet and i attempt to dodge it poorly.
The smell of peppermint hits me, but my cup is empty.
Sighing I boil the kettle again wandering off to its pathetic whistling.

His voice seems to flicker like a candle, over words like a blanket.
His mouth soft, eyes like sea silk, talking songs of love.
I beckon a breath hastily and tighten my arms around my middle, eyes easing open sadly.
Remembering reality I look at his hands, gently stroking her hair and i am forced to turn away.
For fear of him seeing my tears and my broken heart all in one moment.
Love do they call it? No...first it is suffering, because of painful unfulfilled desire.

i watch her in the soft darkness, her feet inches from the edge. Crying she turns her face to the heavens and in the starlight her hair ripples. She opens her hands as if recieving something from the quiet sky, then she sings a few words so gently i strain to hear, and i can't comprehend them. Then she sings louder, with more conviction in a language i don't recognise, creeping closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. Her bare feet grasp the air and in one grasp she leaps into emptiness.… Continue

If ever there was a secret I wanted, or needed to tell, it would be you whom in I would confide. When I was young I looked for the moment when the world would momentarily cease to exist in the wake of another’s eyes and i found you. But I am not faithful enough to entrust this secret upon you. So I will just imagine that I am telling you, and maybe if i believe i've told you strongly enough you will understand I am sorry. Perhaps then you will forgive me.

If everything is silent then i sometimes hear things that aren't actually there. There is an imaginary train that whistles in my direction and a small red alarm clock that wakes my dreams. Then there's the twittering bird that sits on my window sill. If i'm lucky the click of a camera echos through the silent room. But when something really ruins the silence they all disapear like petals on the moor. I am left to talk and listen to real conversation, though it's not half as good as the imagined.