Memories of the seaside brought by London rain memories of Greece fixed by architecture and words of ancient Greek origin in the English language even a newspaper is an ephsmeral every story every novel every life to Graham Swift

If I could escape like Spaceman Spiff. If I could fly like Stupendous Man. Imagine myself into someone I can stand. Bill Watterson, you made it look so easy.

Let me return to the subject of you, Franz. Can I call you Franz? Does Kafka fit the bill? Would K. suffice? Even here, in asking your name, I am riddled with useless questions, pores sweating indecisiveness. Franz? Franz. There can be no confusion. I am…

truly inspiring in all avenue doing walk the talk boundless borderless embracing all people understanding of humanity U and I I and Me the world of today making things realizing an inspirational person beyond words and actions emblem of persistence and patience encouraging and motivating…

we met a boy under the stairs and watched him accept who he was we met a girl with wild hair and watched her learn what she could be we met a cast of many and grew to love a few we met animals, imaginary,…

step by step your hand holding mine the train moves slowly the landscape further like the props for a stage play on the corridors same footsteps wheeling the handluggage the summer heat making you sleepy everything moves slower together frozen in time like in a…

Tentative steps, unrehearsed, moving awkwardly. Gaining pace, each other’s grace lends fluidity Half-remembered forms returning as the music plays, Confidently stepping forward, trusting each to know the way. Heading for that vital moment, landing blind in perfect time, Tempo heating up, the movement coming forth from…

I see them Those memories They flash in non-linear fashion A long line up of regret One soul Losing in dreams Lasting in drama Drifting thru past lives In the present name I see them A line of lovers Friends betrayed Friends believed in Long lists…

Floating above, I look on my life. I’ve gotten the part in the play! I know my lines, I’ve practiced, rehearsed. Stage make up is all in place. The show goes well, They ask for encore. Who am I to decline? The costume seems real….

Tiptoeing on broken glass I hear the laughter I see the smiles I smell the tears There is an elephant in waiting and a mouse in mourning twisting the remnants of triumphant repose. Glazed edges sense oblivion carved by the hands of crime tranquil empathy…