November 30, 2008 – 5:41 pm
One of my good friends was born and raised in Sarajevo. Before the war came her mother (a cynic by nature) urged her husband to sell their flat, take the children and move to Belgrade. But her husband (an idealist) didn’t think there would BE a war, and if there was any conflict that it [...]
November 25, 2008 – 10:06 am
Let’s begin with a picture of me aged 11. There I am in all my naive, fresh-faced glory. Sure my bangs are kind of feathered and dodgy, but the thing on top of my skull (while no means flattering) doesn’t look too bad.
Until of course, IT DOES.
Here I am again, aged 15. Happily, we can [...]
November 18, 2008 – 2:20 pm
In the months after he was born I thought of looking after him as A Meanwhile State, a thing I had to do before I could be on to other (by which I mean better) things. I was filling in as a full-time carer to Inconsolable Monkey but that was just a temping job. I [...]
November 17, 2008 – 6:50 pm
When I trace the anatomy, the history of my relationship
…I think of that car park where we first kissed and he floored the gas by reflex and accident
…Of the first night we spent together and the wind that shook the trees and their branches that rattled against the windows of our house and his hands [...]
November 14, 2008 – 8:49 pm
When I think of rain I remember this:*
…The end of high summer draught. Hills dense with mist. The wind in the cypress, bringing with it the clouds and the smell of the sea. A precipitation in the air, like a hand being run down your spine. A feeling of waiting, poised, between breaths. Fat raindrops [...]
November 10, 2008 – 5:52 pm
For years, I have been calling Z my heart. Recently, in a bid to spice things up he has taken to calling me my kidney and on special occasions sweetpancreas.
I have always been playful and mischievous (my regular pasttime is still to make prank phonecalls to Z at work, at least once a week) and [...]
November 7, 2008 – 11:21 pm
It’s marvellous strange what crafty wily things genes are. How they hide and divide, stowaway or skip generations. My son is a changeling a Rogue Russian (who were themselves Rogue Germans once upon a time).
I love looking at him, wondering what else he carries. Has he inherited my father’s talent for music, his singing voice? [...]
November 2, 2008 – 8:36 pm
For the last year I’ve been having the intermittent versions of the same dream. In my dream we get a warning that unless we leave our house in the next hour with what we can carry we are going to die. In the more nightmarish versions of this I cannot find anything and run around [...]
