Emily Berry

Light stretching my late summer shadow longover parched grass, low sun, this alive, thisevening. Light of mid-morning picking outall the trees’ capillaries, black against the lightof blue’s possibilities, would I rush outsideto see this, yes I would, this light? It’s so kind,it remembers me. Light of first thing, spilled skymixing day up, all the colours that go into day,you...

I went to Paris to visit a writer I admired. Because I was not confident he really wanted me to be there, he promised me that he did and we hugged for a long time but he let go first and I was not completely reassured. In his apartment he had taken my photograph when I had just finished showering and was looking rather dishevelled because I had dressed hurriedly and I asked if he would take...

‘Attempts at description are stupid,’ George Eliot says, yet one may encounter a fragment of unexhausted time. Who can name its transactions, the sense that fell through us of untouchable wind, unknown effort – one black mane?

Anne Carson

Funny you should mention a crow.For years light … for years light eluded meor stayed only a short time … something...

ACT ONE

[Alone onstage with a coffin. Windchimes]

me one: There is a part of me that will always miss what I lost

me two: They all said the same thing in their letters. Poor little ____. I hope she will be okay, poor little ____

me one: I went back to the burned house

me two: Day of the week: immaterial. Time of year: immaterial

me one: Who was there: me and another girl, also me...