Name your hunger like you name the wind
I am living in Trieste, a city 150 kilometres east of Venice, where I look after two small boys: Frederico, (he is ten), and…
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The Seagull
The seagull sits on the ledge of the building, its wings tucked underneath its body and its beady eye fixed on some unknown point.
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L’Incendie
France is a cold, proud place. In winter, the snow is brittle and grimy, white like bone. The people seem equally cold-blooded. They walk…
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An Evening Alone
A while ago some friends of mine who are in a band went to Europe to play some shows and I went with them…
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Should I Stay or Should I Go?
Last year, at the annual National Young Writers’ Festival in Newcastle, I was asked to be an emergency addition to a debating team made…
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