Silent things are not for conquering
Premise: we are thriving off the lives that criss-cross around us, leaving paper trails.
Sense is the seeing, believing, the touching, tasting, the being
The slopes that rise and fall With our breath between them Are a sihloutte of green hips On the horizon: Suspended across the skies In an effortless sprawl, They are wild thighs To the wondering mind As a pen is to paper The incarnation of daydreams.
Matter born of mind is never strictly unnatural
Humanising the other is important in city life. Who is next to you on the train? Written from the Central line carriage, The Locker Room asks ‘what builds the social and cultural dynamic of the place you live in?’