You stood beside the lake, crestfallen, steel blue eyes weeping salty tears into the freshwater lake. This place was so beautiful in the summer. We had a perfect angle on the sun, right next to that old

I ask for no intrusion, give no welcome here. The hour is late, Or mayhaps not. Time plays on in timbres unfathomed – that orchestra of woe, winding wood and brass face; a metronomic bomb swaying back

Nothing moves, save the mould and microscopic tentacles of decay We sit and wait – Watch the fabric of existence tear itself apart All will crumble eventually, the walls, the roof - the sky fall in on

Okay, you’re a movie villain…you’ve dedicated your whole life to the pursuit of evil, probably for no other reason than your well-to-do parents made you practice the bassoon for eight hours a day, then

She plays to an audience of one, battered fingers repeating notes that remind her of the summer rain (la lluvia de verano), that fell in arpeggios on the courtyard where the jasmin bloomed.  Gone

Getting people to admit that fossils fuels are a leading driver for climate change is like trying to get a turkey to vote for Christmas. It just wouldn’t happen. We all love the convenience of our cars,