This is my definition of Magic

Ella's in her bedroom surrounded by cuddly toys and she's telling the audience about how much she wants to be famous, she's sat on a spinning chair facing the audience...

smiling inconsiderate me dashes your dreams with the click of a finger in the blink of a lie kiss your good time good bye sweet dear those words still make you bleed as you stutter them out

Mr. Woggle is an ostrich, Tall and wise and old, And all day long he can be found, Writing stories to be told. And when the school day is over, And all homework is done,

Imagine not being able to recognise your own face in the mirror, your own wife or daughter. Imagine everyone being a stranger.

Rock, River, Rock (1st March, 2009, 12.08pm) Rock, river, rock; sway me in your arms like a babe with a smile; slow-grow in me a penchant for your deep, green charms.

A town like Billericay, in Essex. A March Saturday night. A little bistro that serves pasta dishes to Gladys and Brian. She is twin set nostalgia; he is slacks and Argyle fantasies.