Watching Birds
It reached epiphany one bleak night, after months of waiting. Tormented by the drink and the absence of the cormorant; pushed to the edge. * In September, my godmother took me to a talk about the birds of the River Lea. I had accidentally told her about my watching the month be
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Jensen
There was giraffe snot on my hand and I must have been smiling because Mum was smiling back at me with my shaped grin. Not hers. Two years before that, I handed Mum a picture of a reindeer that I'd drawn and stood back to await approval. She said it was an excellent giraffe. I pretended that it w
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