Faith, Fiction, Friends

He sits, stares at a single painting  in the afternoon, rather abstract, neo-abstract, perhaps neo-realist  or post something, he d...

He sits, stares at a single painting in the afternoon, rather abstract, neo-abstract, perhaps neo-realist or post something, he doe...

For a long time, longer than I really care to admit, I was a cretin when it came to modern and contemporary art. I had this tongue-in-che...

Shards of hallelujahs litter the floor, shredded like waste paper, forgotten, not made I was here once before, walking on ...

Standing in front of the Metropolitan, next to the street, he stares as she disappears, enclosed in yellow, surrounded by the ...

Everything that could be said today is being said today, and I won’t add words, or many of them. In May, we were in the bookshop o...