He sits in the park, slumped against a tree with a half-empty cask of wine in his lap. There’s a cigarette stained with hair gel behind his ear. The warm afternoon sun makes him sleepy. He picks up the wine, brings the plastic nozzle to his lips and guzzles down several mouthfuls. People start to …
Tag Archives: Growth
Fiction: ‘Transformation’
In a forest of bamboo, you can actually hear the trees growing. At first you’re not sure what it was that you heard. A rustle. A scraping noise like wood against stone. A stirring as leaves unfurl into crisp, sharp points. Bamboo can grow up to ninety-one centimetres in a single day, which is about …
Writing on Tangents 