We made it! One ink drawing by Laura Morgans, one piece of writing by Tom Spooner, every day in October – part five. Bangers The air was muggy with anticipation that Saturday afternoon. There were loud whispers about how these...
Category - Observations
One ink drawing by Laura Morgans, one piece of writing by Tom Spooner, every day in October – part four. Bathtime You can imagine yourself anywhere in a bath. It doesn’t matter what is outside of the water, outside...
One ink drawing by Laura Morgans, one piece of writing by Tom Spooner, every day in October – part three. Stars For ten days, the stars had not been seen. It was not that it was cloudy nor that smog or light pollution...
One ink drawing by Laura Morgans, one piece of writing by Tom Spooner, every day in October. Goldfinger A bright buttercup yellow cassette rests on the green grass in front of an abandoned brick shelter in the corner of the Old...
One ink drawing by Laura Morgans, one piece of writing by Tom Spooner, every day in October. Crabbing It may have been the first time I had been crabbing, I couldn’t be sure. The line, weight, and bucket of water by my...
The neon sign on the white-washed wall of the Centrespace gallery burns bright with the question: ‘What am I doing here?’ It is a good question. What am I doing here? It’s rare nowadays that I summon enough energy to leave...
The thing is, I am in heaven right now. Well, I am not in heaven yet, but at the gates about to cross over. Looking in, I see records. Thousands upon thousands of records. In crates stacked on top of each other, six deep, ceiling...
I had to stop the shower early the spider I had spotted a couple of days previous was making his way, with the gait of a giant, across the ceiling, on his way to turn the power off, before his limbs slowed to stationary with...
The insects had been killed on the way to the miniature model village. Victims of circumstance, splatted upon the car windscreen by forces incomprehensible to them. It was raining now too. Pinhead domes, light-carriers from the...
There are two small boxes of china outside on a table. You know the type: chipped plates and cups with badly superglued handles, a piece of paper with ’50p each’ scrawled in felt tip pen. This is the only thing that...