the detective doffs his hat,observes the petrichor rich in the air -the window’s left open, careless,it rained last night, a real deluge,someone tells him.he slips into a state of accismus,observes the patterns of the uxoricideto which he was called and askedto solve.some overlord’s hand at work, he thinks,builds a profile,watches for someone to confecttheir story.


she collects pebblesuntil her hands are stiff. her fingerscramp up from inspecting themand her skirt pocket tears awayunder the weight. at home she tucks theminto corners, glues themin place. triesnot to breathe in the fumes. the leather satchel is torn,strips of material peeling awayin placesand she kicks it under the desk. home is familiar,with its …

rain day

watch her:she is therain. watch as shecomes and goesat a whim,flittingthrough the atmosphere. she has themotion of someonewho knows:she's transient. taps at thewindow,light and playfuland clear. Thisis nothingsubstantial. (not even enoughof her presentto appeasethe gods) see her playjabbing the windowwithsuchtiny hands. this timeshe is substantialenough. enough toappease you,the gods,Whomevercrosses her path. now -watch.see her batterthe …

street’s memoir

silent observer,are you tired yet?let me help youtell your story. here, you saw the love. arguing andmaking up. there, a girl trailed throughthe rain - let the bussplash waterat her feet. and here you sawthousands of peoplegoing about life. speak, please - sorry, i're silent. leave me myguessing game: i shall make up …

after midnight

at 2 a.m., there's totalstillness.the curtains are drawn,heavy and thick, blocking outall light. in the quiet of the cottagethere's no traffic, no sirens rushing bysetting the night alight withcoloured noise. outside a cicada chirpsthen falls silent. there's nothing. in the bleak dark of nightthere's nothing to see,no need for need to do anything.