the mornings are a uniform shade of fog, slow to clear from the sky. on the corner of my desk, a potted flower droops, leached of colour. below my feet, there's the hum of a tiny heater, glowing orange warmth.
I can't begin to imagine the world dulled to one colour. Nor can I imagine having colour restricted to one patch of the world - watching thirty minutes of a TV episode in black and white is quite enough for me. And even then, it was because the black-and-white was a hallucination: the episode began… Continue reading Colour Schemes
He says It should be easy, straightforward. She says It isn’t. He doesn’t understand her objections But he’s never thought to ask why She puts them forward. He doesn’t know what caused them. She remembers back a year Or two ago When she was (fairly) sure that She wanted to try something with him. She… Continue reading Black and White