To be loved is to know the contours of their face,

A map known in complete darkness

To be loved is the crinkling of warm eyes,

A shared intake of breath as gazes meet

To be loved is to be held,

An embrace strong enough to keep the world out.

To be loved is staying with them, even in the silence,

A caress, a breath, a moment paused in time

To be loved is in the grasp of a hand,

An intertwining anc...

Music

My constant

My comforting companion

It is all around,

Cafes, libraries, stores, cars, strangers

Pass me by as I travel

My footfalls are the drum, keeping time

Each person I pass, starting their own dance

Engines grumbling, morning whispers, cutlery skipping across cafe porcelain

All blossoming into the orchestra serenading us throughout our day,

A bird pirhouttes past the traffic lights, ...

Despite what others may think, one can grow quite an attachment to a place. Spring has begun to poke its bleary head through the thick grey that has settled over Edingburugh. Small pockets of colour smeared across a blank canvas, ready for growth. Everything about this place is cosy. Life is slow and routine here. Safe. Dependable. Or it was. Now the comfort I found in the cobblestones, winding th...

The trees seemed to sigh with me. They always do. A joint intake of breathe, a moment of stillness amongst the movement of the world outside. It’s vastness never scared me. An interlocking network of bramble and hawthorn, interrupted by precipes’ of oak, maple, pine. Beneath their ancient leaves is the only time I get to breathe. The only place where time slows to a manageable pace.

My chest rise...