Remember when we were kids and you never stepped on the cracks? You always looked down when we were walking together, to make sure. You’d talk and listen and laugh but always with your head down, your slightly shaggy brown hair falling over your eyes and making you unreadable. Remember I’d look up and around [...]
Today’s title is from The King Blues – What If Punk Never Happened? And there are many things, there are so very many things that I could write about Climate Camp 2009, and other experiences I’ve had in the last couple of weeks. None of it would be very coherent or cohesive, though, I would [...]
By Alice
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Posted in notes
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Also tagged autumn, bike, brother, cinnamon, climate camp, cookies, edinburgh, elsewhere, england, london, religion
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remember that day when we saw the kite caught in the big tree the little ginger cat from your neighbour’s garden had followed us all the way to the shop the red kite in the big tree and you with grass stains on the knees of your jeans i think every boy in the park [...]
Today has been much more than okay. I could try to write about it all, try to pin everything down – I could write about laughing in the kitchen, smiling down the stairs at the big blue sky that feels like a promise kept; about getting the best text message and sitting on the bus [...]
One from my notebook: Bryn. BRYN is a boy who could be any age between about 17 and 28. He is pale with pretty jade-green eyes and a dreadhawk which is dun at the roots and then dyed to a subtle, denim blue tending toward slate; I want to say it matches his eyes, but [...]
This summer is rainy day after rainy day after rainy day. The latest incarnation, the shower I just walked through, is these heavy, tangible, fat drops, a centimetre or two across: few and far between to start with, so that they feel like a deliberate affront when they hit you in the face, but soon [...]
Memories of London come flooding, unbidden, into my head one morning at work as I innocently type an address label for the city. Memories of talking, walking, sitting, looking, resting, laughing and of not realising how much I loved the place, its honest communal air, its grimy stones and slabs and wood and water, until [...]
This weekend, I have mostly been drunk. It’s too hot here, and alcohol makes you dehydrated. I feel dried up, like a raisin. In fact, more like a paper flower: when I was little, once or twice I remember my mum bringing me these beautiful, tightly folded, brightly coloured tiny paper flowers, and we’d fill [...]
