The Voice That Searched My Memories: extracts from The Floating Harbour

Now riddle it with chaos: muddied fury lit by mob-borne flame.

This Room, This City, This World: extracts from The Floating Harbour

“Change is the only thing. It’s the only thing there is.”

The seagulls, too: they screech in semi-reliably recorded history.

Such keen eyes, such keen resolve.

I watch her and she’s wistless as she weaves and waves again.

The air’s electrically-lit between each of the eight trees – their roots breaking the grey and moss-green, late-night, cobbled surface.

Such sudden change; a moment of momentum.

If I walk over the water and across the road, I’ll be merged with the final paragraphs.