HOUSE OF PALOMA

Cassius, when us sisters were children there was an Anna. Where she lived there was an old public bathhouse, that was as if Roman (only this one laid almost forgotten in the elbow of a Nordic village), with stone pillars and its pool filling almost the whole of the, for its purpose, rather small house. Along both sides of the pool huddled, in long rows with old wooden doors, the tiny changing...

VIEW FULL POST

PASS THE POETRY, PLEASE

"We would be together and have our books and at night  be warm in bed together with  the windows open and the stars bright." - Ernest Hemingway I want us to go more the Hemingway (pun absolutely intended) with our nights. Even if admittedly ours are very much together, candlelight and even the open windows, there is a bit more cold light from screens than starlight,...

VIEW FULL POST

BREATHING SPACE

Only one sentence I come across will do. Sticks. Holds, and holds me. Make sure you stock up on compassion.  The rest of it; the silence, has to be translated only in photos from a part of our home. Worn, white polka dot wallpaper that someone else chose once (and, I realise seeing it like this, in pale and white, - a colour scheme that is in interlude too), a winter that doesn't...

VIEW FULL POST

WHAT I REMEMBER

I ask myself what will they remember when I am gone  or when they are grown and cradling the hurts of their own childhood. I wonder which pieces of this magnificent, messy effort will be worthy of recall and which will fall by the wayside, detritus of days lived in the sunset colours of our love for them. I know that much, if not most, will be packed away in the recesses of what I hope...

VIEW FULL POST