XI. Holyrood Park Freedom reigns in Holyrood behind the Queen’s big house. Wide-open space, grass to roam barefoot, feed ducks, kick balls. A woman in a leotard – small waist, wide hips – attempts to wheel a hula-hoop along her arm across her clavicle and back along the other arm. Every time, she fails. I … Continue reading Holyrood Park, Arthur’s Seat
Between. Not here, not there, not anywhere. That’s what I feel like when I travel, especially when I travel alone, which is how it is mostly these days. In transit I am someone else; I am subtly different. I am an extension of my bags, a parcel of possibility. The responsibility for getting ‘there’ is outside … Continue reading Between
Flying out of Northern Ireland from the airport in the countryside, not the one in the city by the shore of Belfast Lough. There’s half a moon, drifting escapes of black cloud blowing like scraps of burnt paper, and our ascent is long and low enough for me to pick out towns, or to try. … Continue reading Night Flight
I’ve written before about looking up, skyward, and how the spaciousness and unfathomable expansion brings up a mixture of feelings within me: awe, hope, and sometimes even a sense trepidation that I can’t quite understand. Like last week’s pink flume of cloud that rose at sunset making my world feel supernatural until, gazing at it … Continue reading Pay Attention to the Open Sky
My Edinburgh Press 