Tag Archives: Story

Rosa-Luxemburg Platz

He leans against me, fast sleep. I can’t see his face but his nails are long and not entirely clean. His back leans against me. Tentative at first, then entirely trusting. I wonder if he’s dreaming. If it were daytime … Continue reading

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Peddler

The travelling man’s bags were filled to overflowing, and although our mothers turned their noses up, we children recognised the smell of adventure. The cheap baubles were gems from Persia where the king was called the Shah and women wore … Continue reading

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