One of those stories where less is definitely more. It is as much about what is not said as what is said. Every time read it I think it is about something different. Could be compassion, friendship, death, loss, fragility, the minutiae, could be the whole fucking lot of it. Exquisite.
My five-year-old, gleeful weirdo, stands at my knee gnawing on the elephant we keep telling her not to gnaw on. There’s rain in my hair still. I have so much and am so bereft.
First published in Bull, Read it here
A Personal Anthology 