Susan Richardson

    Letches   The call to bright lights is a whisper, tempting souls into the clutches of dreams that hang on a celluloid precipice. Los Angeles turns us into letches who lurk under the wings of angels, covered in soot from generations of sweeping up...

Peter Daniels

      The Venue   Could you please wait for the indicator buzzer on the control panel: staff will be glad to oblige.   Though let’s be blunt, we want you as guinea pigs, to make you feel responsible, and see you blush.   Sorry about the...

Hannah Linden

  Above the Living Room Fire Everyone had that painting, didn’t they? Well, everyone we knew round here. But not everyone felt as proud of it. Not everyone’s mum looked like her so that there was a nod, an embarrassed look down as a man’s eye...

Deborah McClean

  Milk and Honey It’s 22:37 and I look down and see you. You’ve had another hard day; I’m not surprised you look so sad. I’m sure you are thinking of the good old days; those days when you were idle; those days when you were framed in soft...