fiction
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The Things a House Remembers
There is a stretch of road approaching Meschers-sur-Gironde, coming through Talmont, where the landscape suddenly opens and the coast appears. I had travelled that way before. Many times, probably. But this time I looked across at the water and felt… Continue reading
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The Teapots I Never Use
People often assume that because my cupboards are filled with teapots, I must drink a great deal of tea. I don’t. Given the choice, I’ll reach for coffee almost every time. Strong, black, and usually before I’ve fully decided what… Continue reading
