Break, break, break. Time accelerates then brakes against the shore of my leave. An office dalliance rises and winks away into nothing, like a fish leaping then plunging back into the ocean. Continue reading
This is a short one, because my eyeballs have assumed the role of a slot machine, periodically rolling back into my head expecting to toss out a matching pair of cherries. I can’t seem to stay awake past 9.30 most nights. So, it being close to midnight means that I’m on the cusp of delirium. Continue reading
With Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s passing late last night, a memory. I open an old copy of One hundred years of solitude and find something unexpected. A note written in my handwriting, addressed to Ben. I gave him this book a few months after we got together. At the time, I didn’t realise how prescient an act that was. Continue reading
One sunny Sunday morning. Rosie and I are on our way back from the local bagel place, scoffing rye and sesame bagels as we walk. We’re sharing – taking turns taking bites out of each other’s bagels. We round the corner and make the descent down the steep and picturesque hill that leads us back to our flat. Continue reading
At night, I dream about it. It’s the first thing I think of when I wake up. I trudge through my day robotically, waiting for the moment when I can have it next, and when I do, I can’t stop myself from having more. Sometimes, I don’t make it through the whole day. When I sleep, I dream of it.
It is, right? Because then you don’t have to worry about collecting the child, or paying the bills, or cooking, or going to work, or doing the laundry, or making sure you leave home on time to drop the child off at school. Continue reading