I’m beginning to feel as though everything has happened before, that our story has already been told. Just as we were powerless to stop the fox stealing the chicken, so there seems to be an...

There are many different stories to tell. It’s never the same. Every day weather blows in and out, alters the surface. Sometimes it is stripped down to a single essential truth, the thing that is...

Every story is a story about death. But perhaps, if we are lucky, our story about death is also a story about love.

Maybe reading was just a way to make her feel less alone, to keep her company. When you read something you are stopped, the moment is stayed, you can sometimes be there more fully than...

Memory is a barricade against forgetting; light is a bulwark against darkness; life is a flex against the stillness of the grave. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do here, clear a space in all...

In the end, I will have to make a choice about how to tell my story….There has to be a moment of going forward, when all the possibilities are left behind.