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The water was aquamarine and small bright fish fluttered and swam below and all around us.

I had been boasting all week of how when Saturday came, I would lie in bed, lost in dreamy dreams until just before time to go to the café.

Maudlin with whisky, watching this family tragedy on tele; sitting slumped, thinking; “But they love each other.” The sobs; the looming...

I think of the soft tread of presence in the forest, the exhortation to tread lightly on the land. From the edge of my eye I see a coal...

I am shattered, all wabit and done in and peely wally and using a language that is not my own and which I cannot pronounce and tired and...