Coot as a Verb

A short video I made from some clips I filmed in Clissold Park this week. The text is from my Continue reading →

Trails of Blood on Paper

Old postcards written by people who are dead. In pencil. In pen. Something remains. Something intimate. A snail trail. A Continue reading →

My Gran’s Garden

When I went back twenty-five years later there were walls and barbed wire and gates where none had been before. Continue reading →

Let’s Talk About Benching

You look at a word long enough and it shows you some of the other things it can do. Like Continue reading →