Photo by Sarah Taylor; Story by Heather Taylor
6 months I’m supposed to be in here. Six months is nothing right. So I’m planning to sit here, tidy-like, neat in my cell, do my time, and what’s here? This fucking face. This face that’s there just staring at me.
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Photo by Sarah Taylor; Poem by Heather Taylor
Square turrets
Open sky
Brick pieces
Jutting handholds
Shuttered windows
Photo by Sarah Taylor; Story by Heather Taylor
It was easy to make. A quick flick of black, the spray smooth and even. The red an afterthought to bleed into what she’d already done. Chuck had given her the stencil so it was only a matter of finding a space.
Read MoreI couldn’t let the day go by without saying something about the bombings last year. I can’t believe they happened in the first place let alone that a year went by when 52 people were killed by bombs on buses and in the tubes. At 10 to 9 this morning, wreaths were layed at Kings Cross, Edgware Road, Russell Square and Liverpool Street. And a memorial will be tonight. It’s a sad day in London and across the UK.
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Photo by Sarah Taylor; Poem by Heather Taylor
We write our names across the sky
Willing them to the universe
Wishing on stars and blown out candles
For the one we want, are dreaming of
A short story about Onion Sprouts first published in McSweeneys: "I thought you would be a good idea. I like your other varieties: alfalfa, bean, broccoli, even fennelgreek. And I don’t even know what fennelgreek is. Now I have learned. Oh. Have. I. Learned."
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