Steve McOrmond

In the forests, we took a pecuniary interest, reserved for them a hallowed place in our memory. Everything must go. We found loopholes in intractable vows, we went round and round like unclaimed luggage on a carrousel. Plain speech became …

One minute you’re a child, amazed by the god-light leaking through clouds, the next, dressed like an antiquarian bookseller, you’re creeping the Facebook page of the one who got away, recently deceased. When you think of all the times you …