August 21, 2026 · 19 min
The pink hour at noon, a defence
An essay written in August about the winter noon light I miss, pink and brief.
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Dark Months
A letter every other Friday: a short note, a longer story or an essay, written in a town where it is dark by three.
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The night I opened for a slideshow
A story about a Thursday, a projector, and eleven people who came for the other thing.
The man on the quay who asked where the sun goes
A story from last January, a harbour at three in the afternoon, and one honest answer.