What We Do With Words
I don’t know where to start. In September, I wrote this post about the quake that occurred then, so devastating, but not deadly. That was heart-wrenching; this is so much worse. When I saw the photograph of the Cathedral spire as rubble in the square I realised, relieved, that none of this was real. I have vivid dreams, sometimes of terrible things. This wasn’t happening, because the spire would never fall. I don’t get to wake up from this. I can’t watch the news any more. I can’t even turn on the TV. Too many journalists intoning solemnly about the utter...
read moreNice, no, awesome, yes.
This picture represents my last, desperate move, which was to steal Mary's parasol and twirl it becomingly.
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Sione inched a bit closer to the bus window and wished, for approximately the 912th time, that he’d had the guts to say no to Janna.
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