Wander through the burrowed light, 
mud-packed walls breathing warmth, 
a kettle thrums—no rush, just the steady, 
unbroken rhythm of being.

Hands work the earth, kneading sun into soil, 
tucking seeds deep where roots raise memory.

Footsteps soften against moss, 
small strides, sure and deliberate, 
paths well-trodden yet never worn.

Bread breaks, laughter follows, 
cups ...

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Shame wears a cloak of invisibility,
a shroud that hides the true self.
It speaks in hushed tones, a critic's voice,

reminding of flaws, of perceived failures.
It warps the mirror's reflection,
distorting the image to fit its narrative.

But as we peel back its layers,
revealing the truth beneath,
we see the scars, the wounds, the humanity,

and find the courage to step into the ...

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Adopt

Saint Stephen's tale

It's Friday, sweets from Mrs Smith

Degeneration X and anarchy

Frankie's words: two tables, four chairs, suspension.

Discovered passing the buck, and thus passed it.

Stole the show with Twenty-one Questions, four dancers, and a singer.

First girlfriend changed everything, "You're young, she has baggage - get rid..." … did...

A pla...

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