As I stand by the window, the crisp air embraces my face; I inhale, I exhale. The elm trees in the distance sway slightly, a slow dance to the soft notes of the wind, with its intimate movements evoking those of two lovers in the fantasy of a dreaming romantic.
Read MoreThe more I read your diary entries, the more I realise I’m in love with you. You come across as sassy and sarcastic, bubbly and energetic, quirky and illuminating. You come across as so colourful that you ensnared me long ago.
Read MoreThe earth is pregnant. The lumps and bumps of ancient peat bogs are fertile, fresh with moss and hard grasses, and far away from where civilisation has carved at the peat for fuel…
Read MoreThe dead don’t speak. But I hear them all the same…
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