Capitol building

The Architect Charles Bulfinch

The lines of the white convertible, rising, converging. The red leather seats. The smell of coconut sun tan lotion, now a part of the seats, a faint smell of sweat, the taste of rum as they kiss a casual goodbye. She goes to work where everyone gets their ice cream and the motor turns. These are the days of sun …

Steamboat

The Day The TV Breaks

I never liked visiting my Dad’s house. It was boring. My toys were at my house, at my Mum’s house. Dad’s house was books and dust, newspapers and daddish things. Watches and tools. Grey and brown and black coats. Mugs to drink pop out of instead of glasses. Dad’s TV didn’t even work anymore. It broke when I was about …