His Swing

Dear Chris, Do you remember when you were a child and you would play on the swings? At first it would be a struggle; scraping your feet on the ground, leaning backwards and forwards to gain momentum, throwing your weight around to defy gravity. And that feeling you...

A Chipped Shell

Fields - some growing, some unplanted still - dotted the innards and extremities of a place content with a certain image of itself, and yet, paradoxically, fighting against it. Houses - whole and strong -  were an anachronism in concrete among the dusty, windswept...