Rita is a woman who has had visions from childhood. At night she always left her bedroom door ajar, slept with the light on, with the...
I’ve made mistakes. More than a few. I haven’t always apologised for my behaviour, for the mistakes I made, the wrong journey I took, the path...
“And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing; a local habitation and...
Losing pieces of your identity already in childhood. At the end of every pilgrimage in my childhood, there was a line that was always a painful...
The page frees me in a sense, in a way I can’t describe. I write and that’s my life. I am a mother and a wife...
Shut the door. Shut out the quiet light. Tell yourself to swim away from the tigers with arms pillars of smoke. One day I will find...
Miss Gilbey taught Speech and Drama. Every Friday afternoon as the car speeded down the highway en route to her studio cum house I would learn...
Elijah, you are a beautiful book. Just an imprint burned on my brain like a ghost. I miss you more than most on some days, just...
There are so many things going through Gail’s head at this point in time. By the sea, part natural, part supernatural, it spits driftwood out in...
Whenever disaster strikes me in my world, I think of home (home as sanctuary, soft place to fall in flight, and adrenaline rush), or I go...