Nothing to Tell

'We have neither of us anything to tell; you, because you do not communicate, and I, because I conceal nothing.' In times of confusion, I often turn to Jane Austen for clarity and a pick-me-up. This quote resonated with me last week; it helped put a (full) stop to an ellipsis. Marianne Dashwood to Elinor … Continue reading Nothing to Tell

My Back Yard

Long ago and not so far away, was my first home: 47 North Hill, Colchester, Essex, UK. It was there that my sister was born, and there that I was raised to realise that we are our stories. There, too, I learned to respect other stories, others' stories: to understand that history is always in … Continue reading My Back Yard