I'm hurrying down Gerrard Street, hunched shoulders, first stop, the Loon Fung supermarket. It’s to pick up the South China Morning Post, like I do on a weekly basis. The sounds and smells are the same as Hong Kong, the scent of street market, five spice and cinnamon. Only the air is cooler, not humid, nor is the air thick with sidewalk steam, nor is it 30 degrees, nor real feel 40.
When the woman I was making love to turned into a pig I knew that I had become too cynical. I watched her face fill out, her cheeks lose their definition and her nose turn up at me to form a perfectly cylindrical snout. Her skin became rough. It became pockmarked and covered in fine grey hairs and then her mouth widened and opened up to reveal a coarse and unclean set of teeth.
Alice slipped her arm under mine as if to seek protection in the folds of my body but I felt like a child warmed in her embrace. Each step we took through the mist revealed a new tree broken from its roots and lain flat on grass that shone with the morning dew. I asked: "Why does your father always talk to me about religion?"
Original of Love in Slough "Sordid and diseased, the unnatural motions of two physical beings are constrained within their coarse solid inflexible 3-dimensional world. But can they not melt, infuse,…
Partial Original of Elephant Mountains See grainy, textured landscapes of roughened gorse and heather washed by an all-encompassing misty drizzle, the wind piercing my threadbare clothing dissolving the marrow of…
