by Blueberry Pie
(part 5, continued on from here)
London at night: its dark matter holds you at the waist and calls you close. Suddenly you are ready for another drink, another kiss, another disbelieving glance at early light. … Continue Reading
by Blueberry Pie
(part 4, continued on from here)
Belinda and I worked opposite each other. If a city has frown lines, one definitely ran between our concrete office blocks, and it was there that we sat every day at 4.30 pm – in between the recycling bins and a rusting Queen Victoria plinth. … Continue Reading
by Blueberry Pie
(part 3, continued on from here)
People say corporate life wilts even the most creative of minds. I’m not sure mine has ever been weighed down with genius – but anything that was ever there has definitely been MacDisneyfied now. To top it all, in PR anything goes as long as it gets people’s attention and gets fat gold coins rolling through eyes, cartoon-style. … Continue Reading
by Blueberry Pie
(part 2, continued on from here)
The soft precision of the day moved on, and I let it bring me with it. The tube was heavy with sweat and voices, and the walk to work lined with sleepy pigeons, all in agreement that this was a day to spend under duvets. … Continue Reading
by Blueberry Pie
I christened that day: the day of butterflies.
As I opened the sitting room curtains, I thought it had snowed. Then eyes adjusted, and I noticed that in fact a dense layer of ivory butterflies had settled on the windowsill’s surface. … Continue Reading
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