Short stories & essays —
The World from My Window
The world from my window is changing. As I write, branches that have looked for months like dry, brittle kindling are now thick and sprouting buds. Colours are emerging. Purple capped grape hyacinths shrug off pebbles in the garden below, and green grass cracks the pavement. The air, as it comes through the open window each morning, is thicker. Shadows creep along at new angles. And perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit, but it’s taken me twenty-six years to notice a