Tag Archives: Writing

Calendar

The stack of books on my bedside table is always precarious. Once in awhile, I clear it down to the bare minimum and stack the books neatly, but like rising bread dough, it grows back, alluring and top heavy. At … Continue reading

Posted in Non-parabolic trajectory, Poetry, Present, not precious - November 2016, Writing | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

grass

Grass. What a funny word to write about at the end of November, so close to winter. If I had to summarize spring and summer in a single word, grass might be my choice. How does something so soft, so … Continue reading

Posted in moon and stars, Present, not precious - November 2016, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

photo booth

Those funny little stalls stashed in odd corners of a shopping mall or just outside a movie theater, sounding their siren calls for the spare 5 minutes and handful of change. You step inside with your brother or beloved or … Continue reading

Posted in Kidstuff, Present, not precious - November 2016 | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

bricks

Bricks. Simple, solid, humble. Like cells, like atoms. Like letters of the alphabet, or the digits from 0 to 9. A dictionary is a storehouse of language bricks, a quarry; take what you need to build your story. Can be … Continue reading

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Chandelier

This one was tough!  This morning I thought, ‘Right, fiction today.’ And fiction, pure fiction, is an untravelled country for me. So I wrote a little longer than usual – more like 15-20 minutes – and edited a bit more … Continue reading

Posted in gothic, Present not precious, Present, not precious - November 2016 | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Postcard

Postcard. For a few years in my early twenties, there were a lot of postcards in my life. Written, sent, received, read, stuck on the wall of my dorm room, tucked between pages as bookmarks. When I was travelling in … Continue reading

Posted in Kidstuff, Present, not precious - November 2016, Travel, Writing | Tagged , | 4 Comments

Island

No man is an island. I live on an island. The edges of an island are washed everyday by different tides.  I’ve often wondered what it would be like to walk the perimeter of an island – maybe Ireland, or … Continue reading

Posted in Kidstuff, Present not precious, Present, not precious - November 2016 | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments