Our eyes met across the tarted up towel display, and my stomach was a lepidopterarium. Loudly, the silence sang as we stood, oceans and perfumes apart, lost, but found again, in the middle of John Lewis. What should I say? Should I even say? Can I even stay? Questions. Questions. Questions. No answers, no purchases…

The sun’s sleepy eyes are open, clouds have cleared, and I have a head full of last night’s dreams to keep me fulfilled. Somewhere, a flower is finding the soft and forgiving love of dawn, and I can feel the joy that jumps through her body. This is not the right time, so they say,…

There’s been a storm for days, and I have thought about hiding under my bed, like a little girl. It’s not the thunder that throws me, or the dark, angry state of the sky, just the winds of change.