In the photo-booth Eva gets self conscious, blinking when the flash pops. “It’s not me,” she screams out loud as the photo pops out.

The boy was lost and he went to the beach on his own.
He walked along the beach and he was scared of everything: of himself, of the sand and the sun and sea. He walked with his head down.

There are few sounds sadder than the plinky-plonk of Greensleeves from a passing ice cream van.  Mickey Mouse’s face plastered on its arse, rainwater rivulets streaking down his grimy cheeks.

Evelyn Battersby was a difficult woman to please, an easy one to disappoint. When her children brought their gifts on silver salvers she would sniff, wrinkle her nose, send them back to the kitchen.

Henry leafed through the applications on his desk, sighed, picking up the first one.
Application no. 56/438/b
Activity/Description: Cheese rolling.  A large rinded cheese placed at the top of a hill. . .

the highway asphalt. reeks of exhaust and burnt rubber. the cars and trucks go by. the sun boiling and you rotting.

snow crystals
on my neighbor’s windows …
Foreclosure askew

& more

Empty Basket

Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.

We are in the bath, your hands
around my back, mine around yours—
everything covered in a fog.

as a child, I learn to eat words

fill me up with words
brittle like sugared almonds
they crunch in my bones

Amaleena Damlé