Lasting Impressions

Lasting Impressions

There’s a sense of freedom to walking in the wide open spaces of the hills, that you just don’t get from a stroll in the park with all its clutter and constant chatter. As you reconnect with the simplicity and timelessness of the landscape, a sense of perspective returns, and cares are shed in waves. There’s a natural resonance, similar to being fully absorbed in a good piece of music, and all else is left behind.

Would she hav dun da saim ting fer a byrne?

Would she hav dun da saim ting fer a byrne?

Foetal fold tumble, cast-iron stairs, coal scuttle rubbish clanging silence then thud skid of snow. I forgot to twist cat-like in the air. Fuck shit piss wank Ow! Pick up detritus and lob it in da bin. Limp back up to the flat. Skid past avoiding his not-shouting-back facing the kitchen glass-fronted cupboards (where Ma kept her…
Lugaid Cichech

Lugaid Cichech

Pitching black with the to and fro roll of it, the trawler nears the coast. A lick of paint in Copenhagen, a change of name to boot. The stacking of long boxes neck-high in the saloon. Stranding room only - then the dodging journey. 'Luk der itiiz!' The problematical flicker and a splash of oars. 'Jeezus wept…