The Great War, Through glass
I go through people’s leftovers, their old clothes, the maps of lines on their faces, sit in their seats and eat from their plates; strangers’ stuff. They are people I can’t know nor ever will in the vast majority of cases, nearly all of them are...
Coasting, Lost in a landscape
I wrote a bit about Trimingham a few weeks ago, it was canvas really, the backdrop, the beach is the deep history. Being what it is and how quiet it can be we went back. There was a bitter driving Northerly, ice bearing, even the hardy fishermen had all packed up and...