WANDERING BARD
I sat on the raw wood bench outside the hut. The sun had yet to show from behind the rugged peaks, and the whole big mass of Mount Cevedale
I paint a lot of the landscapes that I see as I’m hiking … sometimes it’s the view I get from the summit but other times it’s little tiny
Whatever the mainstream narrative is, there may be some truth to that narrative but … there are always many other stories running alongside it, or going in opposition to it,
I do use made-up words in my fiction, peppered in amongst the English … for example, ‘gracekeeper’ is not a word … I just thought it sounded nice and had
On the Road to Ormskirk I find pavement I have driven before in another state, across a border, across an ocean that divided me from some other place, where I
A Short, Sweet Lesson in French-Muslim History ‘Parfait, Alice!’ Our instructor Guillaume, a French pastry chef, claps his hands in rapturous satisfaction. My twelve-year-old daughter carries on whisking the ganache,
Sleet turned to hail as the sky darkened into evening. An occasional streetlight still functioned, flickering with a dull orange glow, but Tiffany was grateful when the last working lamp
