The Peacock’s Daughter

Music surges through the speakers. Salt-N-Pepa tell us to push it, and I survey the sea of shocked faces. Not really funeral fare, Mum. ‘No sombre music, Gillian.’ Yes, Mum. No sombre music. But you could have at least let me warn folks.

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To My Father On His Birthday

My dearest Achan, Eighteen years have passed and more, since Death took you by the hand and led you away.  That moment of realisation that you had departed is still so clear, so breath-stealing these many years on.  And yet.  And yet I can no longer remember the exact quality of your voice, the timbre of […]

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