City of 43 Angels

Facebook prompts memories of ‘this time last year’ or ‘this time five years ago’ and sometimes you get a sense of ‘shit, I forgot about that whole thing’ or ‘shit, …

Jean

He waddles through the front door bearing a rustic suitcase and treasure shaped box, most likely holding all of his life’s possessions. Mauritius, he says to me. I go Mauritius. …

Tram Diary Entry (3)

He despises ties. And high heel shoes. They don’t tap on, they only tap off their minds so they don’t have to tap in to each other’s worlds. His face …

Tram Diary Entry (2)

Rain finds solace in the ends of my straw hair for a moment then is absorbed faster than the trams do pull up before me and he leans out of …

Tram Diary Entry (1)

I don’t know why, but in much the way I gain inspirational ideas from messages I read in toilet cubicles, I also gain from the simple act of taking a …