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There’s a woman coming out of the park with her four Jack Russell terriers. They are barking and jumping around, in the way that most Jack Russells seem to do. I am on my bike, waiting at the traffic lights when I hear the dogs, and turn immediately as I’d recognise those yelps anytime. The
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I have a Scottish accent. Not really much of a surprise given that I was born in Scotland after all. But it is something that people comment on quite often. The fact that I have managed to maintain my accent, despite having spent the last fifteen years out of the country. As a child we
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The man walking ahead of me is muted. Muted in the sense that he fades into the background. One of those people on the streets you would fail to notice. Not even a face in the crowd. He is one of those invisible people. He’s dressed in shades of brown and tan. Colours that say
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Japan. What a strange place it is. I am beginning to think it may be the loneliest country in the world. A land destined to retreat ever further into itself. A land that is developing a method for living that is so peculiar, so introverted, so horrifying, that I cannot help but be intrigued by
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I am sitting behind my laptop, the radio station playing quietly in the background, when a gentle swirl of music begins to filter through to me. At first it is just a faint, lingering sound. Slow and tentative, coming towards me, like a trickle of water. Then the drum rises up, perforates the melancholy, to
