London riots
It is sunset, the sound of sirens is less frequent outside now in Hackney (E8), and it seems like the right time to reflect for a minute on the ‘London riots’. To set some context for this, I (slightly begrudgingly) thought Penny Red’s blog was very...
City Of Glass
I say what they say because I know nothing. There was this. Dark. Very dark. As dark as very dark. They say: that was the room. Not even a window. Poor Peter Stillman. And the boom, boom, boom, the caca piles. The pipilakes. Excuse me. Anymore. There was mush food in...
The Pale King
‘Well, my dad used to like to mow the lawn in little patches and strips. He’d do the east corner of the front yard, come in the house for a while, then do the southwest strip of the back lawn and a little square at the south fence, come back in, and like that…
The Pale King
They’ll either be grateful, or they’ll be frightened and avoid you from then on. Both reactions have their uses, as we’ll get to.
