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Seer of ghosts & weaver of stories

(You are very much not forgotten)

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The only photographic evidence to suggest I was in New Mexico:

I went to the Malton Literature Festival on Sunday, as one of the poems I'd entered in their competition had been shortlisted. The event was good fun, and I got to do some more reading. The weekend before, I read at West Kirby Library as part of an event called Parallel Dimensions, and tearelateddream was kind enough to go with me.

James and I have found our London flat. As of December, we'll be living in Forest Hill. Not dead central, but connected by rail to London Bridge Station.

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If you had all five of us in one photo, you'd definitely see where we're all related, but, at the same time, we all have features that are startlingly different, almost inexplicably so.

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