It would seem I still dream of you. And wake, unsettled by this little unlocking. To find after-all that you are still there. Still here. I wonder if I’m there in your nights too.
“Writing — has self-respect in it. You’re working. You’re trying. You’re not lying down on the ground, having given up. And one thing I love about writing is that we can speak to the absent, the dead, the estranged and the longed-for — all the people we’re separated from. We can see them again, understandContinue reading “Every word I wrote (revisited)”
Hey there readers! This is my 150th post at body, remember. This little project that started with a tag line – all the things we remember to forget – and a post about endings: … or earlier still, when I sat up in bed one morning struck by the idea for a novel where theContinue reading “Do the thing”
What does the body remember of another? What memory sits at the tip of the tongue, ready to burst? Does desire constantly swim in the veins, little pieces of longing that warm the blood and rise to the surface at the slightest provocation? Do they reconstruct and orient the desire toward that which we cannotContinue reading “body, remember”