On the way home from a lines run for Oleanna.
Texture in the Parliament car park.
We only have one car key. If Craig is late I have to entertain myself somehow.
Darling husband driving nonchalantly, throwing horns and wearing his grandfather’s gold watch.
An exceptionally violent dawn.
Craig sent me running to the newspaper – I thought it was something work related.
I was almost relieved to find out it was a terrible photo of me.
Home when I should have been at the Gryphon. Drunk when I should have been performing.
The garden is rising up. It will reclaim Park Place.