Colour and ink, in the sink, if I blink.

E&P

Esther is the sweetest thing, ever. She wrote this little story. :) I miss her. :(

So there was a girl called Esther, she had an oh so schmo time with Premjit. They met randomly on myspace and when they met in person it was as if they had been friends for a lifetime. Perhaps they had in a past life.

They didn't see much of each other but when they did there was an abundance of laughter, they made each other feel good. Sadly they lost touch for a while, they both felt a little depressed.

Esther had a terrible time and never felt able to tell Prem what was going on. She felt so sad because Prem left and she never said goodbye.

In the time since they had last seen each other Esther had found her self in a terrible state and even ended up in hospital. She gave up all her jobs and left her flat in London and went to Birmingham to seek refuge.

She hoped that herself and Prem would maintain their friendship and might even see each other one day in Kerala. xxx

Little people looking through little windows making little faces at little people. x

Here

Sickle and spanner
Concrete and light
A strain in my eyes, a night-coloured dice,

Machine and manner
Frost and bite
A train till the end, an open systems bend.

Three

Three days, three moments, three arts,
Promising raindrops gather around for three prayers.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, clock, its 3:03pm.
Three days, three moments, three hearts, apart.

Fefe Submission

So, a magazine in Italy called Fefe (www.fefeproject.com) invited me to contribute art for their forthcoming magazine issue based around the theme - "Who said that we have to be strong?". So, attached is my submission. And here's a little note on what it means -

----

"Who says we have to be strong? Who says we cannot hide? Who says we need to show the world we are not alone? A beard is like a mask, a metaphor. The bigger the mask, the stronger the metaphor, the symbol. Finally it all comes down to identity and if that can be used as a means to cover one's fears and weaknesses, why not?"

My story is told
My face is old
And on my bed
are a million things

I wish I'd said.