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Anticipation, excitement, fear.
The taste of sea salt on my lips as I speak. Sand beneath my toes grounding me to this place, this moment.
And John McGrath tap dancing with my daughter in my mum's living…
ContinuePosted on April 13, 2014 at 5:08
And with Louise comes a renewed sense of agency, energy and motivation. An outside eye bringing supportive, loving critical criticism.
I am in awe of the way that she she is able to take my ramblings and turn them into concrete, tangible objects. To hear my vague words and offer up sound, lighting, action, set design.
And I am chuffed to bits when she tells me she likes my writing.…
ContinuePosted on April 13, 2014 at 5:00
I wish I could bottle this feeling. I wish that I could articulate the fragility of this moment. Spending time with you is exhausting, baffling, frustrating. But so, so exhilarating. I see the world through your eyes and drop my inhibitions - become a seahorse, a kite, a jellyfish. You have a freedom that I lost long ago. I wish that I…
ContinuePosted on April 9, 2014 at 7:52
in this dying town
where are the dead kept?
Today I have had an overwhelming sense of history smothering the present. Of recriminations and accusations holding back the young. Of long held grudges being clung to as the barnacle clings to the hull of a boat.
People here remember. The past is a living, breathing animal, snarling in…
ContinuePosted on April 8, 2014 at 6:12
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