I have 343 stories published in
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His sky has no horizon, volcanoes pile around him spewing fire like dragons. Their silver claws threaten to shred him but they cannot reach. When I call him by his old name,
Queuing at the barracks to have our driving skills checked, we make a group of miserable looking people dressed in khakis, browns and blacks, some of the elder women with jewellery
In the morning I put on my coat I snap out of my habit of yoghurt and fruit and take to the sea in my boat, have sushi for breakfast and catch my sardines in a net,