Journal Sequence #7: Liminal People

What happened to all the moments in between? Surely in their darkness they hold the key to all this. Or have I truly moved from one scene to the next as though through a portal? Where do we go when we’re inside a portal? Where are we when we’re in between? We are liminal people,… Continue reading Journal Sequence #7: Liminal People

Writing Pareidolia

I’m fascinated by pareidolia. The way we are primed for spotting the familiar in the alien, the meaning in the senseless, the pattern in the random. The way we may or may not see the same things, like faces in froth or ponies in clouds, depending on our subjective experiences and values. Nature’s Rorschach test.… Continue reading Writing Pareidolia

Butterflies

From some unknown corner of the house, butterflies are emerging. I’ve liberated 4 this week. Frantically they fly towards the light. Meanwhile, I’ve been in a chrysalis of my own. Turned away from the world, writhing in chaos and conflict, evolving privately. Metamorphosing. I’m reading Perdido Street Station by China Miéville (at long last –… Continue reading Butterflies

Flash: Colour Bleeds Out/Only Birds

Colour bleeds out, sounds wind down. Muffled, blind. Straight lines, thick and thin, washed in white and grey. It is winter here. Gentle snowflakes fall, though they strike as something sinister. Am I the only one conscious, the only one not a golem made of meat? Playing pieces for cruel gods. This pawn has slipped… Continue reading Flash: Colour Bleeds Out/Only Birds