The following is a transcribed account of a telephone conversation I shared with my mother - May 18, 2015. Phone rings. Incoming call....

Before I tell you of that terrible day, with Pete sat in an armchair, in a squalid shit-filled room with death all around, I must first t...

In the summer when the trees are full the sunlight falls in mottled dabs upon the Cours Gambetta. The Cours Gambetta is a long straight r...

It had been raining, but by then it had stopped. The night was in. Across the sky were vast expanse of cloud, smokey mauve on the deep...