creativity
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This is a fallow field, God said. I looked up. It stretched away from me, trampled and desolate, an asymmetric tangle of weeds and loose rocks lodged forlornly across its lunar topography. Unremarkable and lonely. Incongruent with the bustle of spring around me. It was the 14th April 2023. A particularly verdant spring day had
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I remember standing at the station waiting for the 7.10am train to London. The tannoy announced its imminent arrival and I stood to my feet, reaching instinctively for my bag before realising something strange. Rather than one bag, I had several. All of them were different sizes and variations; tattered brown suitcases on their last
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In April 2021, we packed up our house and moved. The sun shone that morning and to my surprise I wept inconsolably as we loaded the van and surrendered the keys to a tenant. 18 tempestuous months later, I found myself back at the front door, feeling the familiar metallic shudder of the keys in
MONAKI 