In Sunday school, the student asks the teacher how old he will be in heaven. The teacher tells him to pray for the answer. The student is nine years old and leaves class for the last time.There’s a sense of something liminal in certain coffeepots. They’re old and systemic in their design and can be […]
The roads are closing again for the night and my aunt sighs into her tea. Another snowstorm is coming. The boats are tied down to the quay in a spiderweb of ropes. I’m restless to get out and feel as though it somehow relates to me. A bit of imagination is welcomed. My friend calls
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A small boy on a gigantic blue bicycle rush past us. I spot him from the woods, where my two younger cousins and I have been sent to fill buckets with cloudberries – summers have become laboursome, after we became adults. The boy’s legs are stretched, and his toes strain to push the weight of
Dire straits Heat waves rise with the morning sun on its horizon, where the road meets the sky, and I walk and I walk and I stumble as I walk away from the nightmare of the scene. The sun now casting light on what the moon could not illuminate last night. The horror of a