Room 329

The hotel room, dressed in washes of brown, looks out onto a busy road. I have pulled back the curtains, opened a window. Gray clouds heavy and sodden painted against…

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Here comes the walking alligator handbag. Down from the veranda, across coarse sand, lounge chair wedged under her arm. Floral beach bag slung across her shoulder. Rumored to have been…

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29th November

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Misty start to the day. Like being inside cotton wool. Or passing through low cloud. Mouse crap in the kitchen (they emerged from the fireplace like something prehistoric, between old…

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I'm not much of a letter writer. I never feel I have the time to sit and write when it's quicker to pick up the phone and call someone. But,…

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Selling Poetry

A small blonde girl wearing worn dirty sneakers squats against a service door in the rain and pees on crumpled papers, wrappers, a notice announcing ‘thirty percent off all dresses…

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  Mrs. Porter glared down at the statue. Lately, it seemed to be mocking her, fixing its stony gaze upwards towards this bathroom as if it hated her. “Well,” she…

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