The flour scurried like dust from an epicentre. Exploding, it mushroomed and fell like ash, a bullseye ring clear round the impact. The slap of the dough as it hit was dull. Flat. Lifeless. Too loud. For a moment, he stood too still. Betrayed by the loudness. The loudness that made the silence that followed fierce with the irreverent sounds of living. TheContinue reading “Bread”
Some handkerchiefs have always been yours; others are those that you have inherited, stolen or been given. Those given come with succour that seems to be weaved into the cloth.
At the age of seven I decided what would be my life’s theme tune, and reminded myself of it 28 years later.