Nos Liberavit

Bell-like, round and clear Hopeful and transparent as a copper bauble, it lifts the congregation. From the sanctuary the maiden’s voice soars and plunges as she elongates the siren call.   — I am not a groupie. I’d rather spend my days in a hermit’s hut on a mountainside with books, green tea and yoga

I do. Do you?

Remember how your grandfather stumbled and then fell into the garden pond. You wore a suit, freshly pressed – a strange look from your usual garb of sweat and day creased shirts. I in a satin dress of peacock colours, never wanted to be conventional, but my bouquet was of white arums from the garden.