To notice a new season, a chill in the air, a million hues of brown and yellow, the familiar smell of autumn. To notice a sound, a bird call, a breeze twisting branches, the bounce of rain off a roof. To notice a look, a movement, a subtlety, a whisper of skin against yours. To… Read More To notice
It’s misty. Not the cold, damp tendrils we’re used to, but a warm, comforting, enveloping mist, a blanket of grey whose edges reach out and caress the earth, leaving a touch of moisture, a faint glitter on leaves and stone. The air smells earthy and thick. We’re waiting, me and the birds and the insects.… Read More Mist
We spent the day turning our smartphones on and off, date, WiFi, 3G, 4G. We drove and got excited when the road offered us a spot of data, a small area where our phones would finally connect to the outside world. Our hearts leapt at the chance to stare at that small screen again, on… Read More Unplugged
I want to talk about wastefulness. About how strange it is that a ‘replace’ rather than ‘re-use’ culture has grown in the past few decades. About how things are made to break, rather than made to last. I’ve spoken before about how I work part time in a charity warehouse. This has given me a… Read More About wastefulness.
It was one of those rare summer evenings in Britain. It’s half past ten at night, and the sky is clear. It’s still light, although the blue is fading, merging slowly into orange, pink and pastel hues hinting over the horizon. One or two stars appear but to all intents and purposes it’s still daylight.… Read More Summer evening