My father died 25 years ago when I was 7 and a half years old. He was a god to me then. Now he is a man partially restored. Not who I needed him to be, not who I wanted him to be but who he was: mere mortal, fallible as them all and my father a human I felt a profound connection with and whose eyes I saw the world through.Read More
Some Friday evenings, I'll cook, i'll move around the house and the next day make breakfast and juices and the kitchen becomes a mess and I don’t make the bed and clothes are on the floor and I don’t tidy a thing. The house looks extraordinarily dishevelled.
It’s really quite delightful.Read More
As a child I would fall asleep listening to the sound of the waves pummelling the shore but 20metres away from my bedroom window. Opening the window at night, so that I could hear those waves was a ritual that made my heart soar.Read More