you look different did you cut your hair? it seems like forever since i saw you last. there’s makeup on your face and you’re in a pink leather skirt but you never used to dress up. i guess you grew up, or something like that. your laugh. it sounds different louder higher not like you i guess i smile and make jokes … Continue reading someone i don’t know
My mother was a pianist, once. She lived alone, on the second floor of a grey apartment building perched on the edge of Seoul. It was just out of the city, because it was all she could afford, and a 40 minute car ride to her job selling sushi and tea to tourists and suit-clad workers at an art gallery that overlooked the skyline. She … Continue reading the pianist
The cup was yours this morning. It’s funny how it’s yours one day and mine the next. Coffee and tea, tea and coffee. A small clay creation – a model of those little white porcelain ones you get with your jasmine tea at a yum cha. But this one is different. Misshaped and glazed with an array of colours that don’t go well together. The … Continue reading where’s the coffee?
the undergrowth. 