Imagine living inside a locked closet without any control
over any aspect of your life.
It was 7am.
The sun sparkled gently on the flat, glass-like water.
In 1915, trench warfare had begun and the Western Front was
at a standstill.
I often can't be bothered getting up in the mornings - I
never have anything to do.
You're supposed to be able to tell a lot about someone from
the way they react to a rainy day or tangled Christmas tree
The frost-encrusted grass crunched under hooves as I urged my
meticulously groomed horse forward into a rhythmic canter.
About 250 years ago, careful hands shovelled dirt over the
rusty, metal capsule.
It's not what we look like. It's who we are inside that
In the morning of the equinox, when the sun rose and bathed
the horror of what had happened in perfect pink light, I ran.
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