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Glory Heart (in progress)
Though he knew his world was falling apart, there were times when he sat there oblivious: sipping beer from the bottle and looking out onto a packed Shoreditch highstreet flush with Friday night skirts, heels; peacocks of every sex parading their glorious tail feathers …

Mute
Standing, I gaze absently out of the window at faceless pale cream facades; apartment blocks with laundry hanging over the balcony balustrades, looking down on tiny parks sandwiched between the drab and interrupted only by the brightly coloured T-shirts and hats of the nursery school children running riot …