He who first called out the stars in their thousands, he who spread wide the wings of the morning and shackled the seas in their place,

You know that you’re in a bad way as a writer when you’re not even inspired to write about your lack of inspiration.

The rain wasn't heavy so much as persistent. A constant precipitation that slowly and surely seeped through my coat, soaked my hat and glove

It's an early Saturday in January, the sky is clear and I am trying to free myself from sinking ankle deep into a bog - just you're average

Written - 7th August 2023 With a tremor on the line the Southeastern service from Ashford international rolled into the station. The...

you'll find the random out pouring of inconsequential thoughts and the embryos of philosophies,