Under the bridge

Down by the river, beneath the motorway is a place where the sun burrows deep. Concrete pillars are its pen, and the banks the paper, on which the light draws ever-shifting shadows. Every so often, I venture down there, and try to capture what’s been sketched on the walls. Its particularly  interesting visiting at different […]

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The garage

Since I can remember, the garage has always been full of junk. My dad, who was its main inhabitant, was somewhat of a hoarder when it came to things that may or may not be useful and over time, content grew steadily. In his later years, however, my dad became less interested in the usefulness […]

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