A long introduction

I’m broke. Hell, everyone is. The next time I see my barman may be the last. His name is Logos. Kind chap. Not that I can’t afford good beer, no, it’s that they hiked the price in that joint. They won’t see me again in there, needless to say. Which is sad because I was making quite an impression on Logos.Read More »

Beyond the door

Just outside Nation Centre, on a cold lifeless Monday morning my father-BM-will step off the car, go around back and open the boot. He will pick up a suitcase and a smaller bag containing a camera and a laptop. With the latter swung over one shoulder he will roll the suitcase to the van waiting a few paces behind, throw them in and walk back to bid us goodbye. A long hug for my sister Krystine, a hug and a kiss for mother Grace, and a short-lived handshake for me, if time is on our side I get the shoulder thing. And then he’s gone.Read More »