Novels This Is Yesterday & Birding with Corsair Books
Rep: Becky Thomas at Lewinsohn Literary
Chair of The Adamson Collection Trust: work created in the art therapy studio at Netherne hospital during the C20th
By heavens, the little treats are holding the sky up like cheap valiant toothpicks buttressing an entire crumbling cathedral these days, coaxing me from one to another like a breadcrumb trail of gonks & tchotchkes
By heavens, the little treats are holding the sky up like cheap valiant toothpicks buttressing an entire crumbling cathedral these days, coaxing me from one to another like a breadcrumb trail of gonks & tchotchkes
Every blood-mouthed ghoul demanding our eradication is a "concerned citizen just asking questions."
Every blood-mouthed ghoul demanding our eradication is a "concerned citizen just asking questions."
Violets are heaven
Violets are heaven
youtu.be/8WnQCSfnsFw
youtu.be/8WnQCSfnsFw
I’ve been alive to apricity, marcescence & brumousness all casually happening the chilly, beautiful fuck out of themselves today.
Really a voracious little ariel gulping down all the ether’s ranting, mutters & plainsong. Everything irradiated with meaning & pathos
I’ve been alive to apricity, marcescence & brumousness all casually happening the chilly, beautiful fuck out of themselves today.
Really a voracious little ariel gulping down all the ether’s ranting, mutters & plainsong. Everything irradiated with meaning & pathos
here’s a poem by Oswell Blakeston and Max Chapman, artists and writers who were pretty much a lifelong couple
here’s a poem by Oswell Blakeston and Max Chapman, artists and writers who were pretty much a lifelong couple
Why #EdgeOfDarkness makes so much sense in 2025
buff.ly/nIF9mdh
Why #EdgeOfDarkness makes so much sense in 2025
buff.ly/nIF9mdh
By which I mean limbering up to let vague existential disquiet descend into the certainty that life so far has been a pointless, humiliating failure, with all the jaunty inexorability of a slinky pouring arse over arse down a staircase
By which I mean limbering up to let vague existential disquiet descend into the certainty that life so far has been a pointless, humiliating failure, with all the jaunty inexorability of a slinky pouring arse over arse down a staircase