It's a bottle of hard cider: sweet and rotten, relaxing and toxic I drank it: tasting joy and sorrow, strolls in warm idyllic countrysides, sickness and metaphoric gutters I've slept in,

Let’s talk about the end of everything

I saw something at the weekend, and it changed the way I see the world. It was nothing special, no big epiphany or massive Feng-Shui style life change. Non of that superficial bullshit.

Reflection is all I see. A plain copy. Old brown leaves crunch. My bare toes part a trail through what used to be a town full of life.

A mother, missing her grown-up son.

backstory Poland c1942

Toes curled round tight hanging on to dear life, arms spread up and out balancing in the wind. Safety line waves wildly even the gentlest breeze makes the branches sway.

As soon as you start, you'll want to stop. As soon as you're in, you sure to want out. As you begin to love them, you will start to hate them. As you realise,