A friend took this photograph of the sunset over Manchester from a railway bridge in Collyhurst. It’s a fantastic shot which I think deserves to be shared. Evening descending with an apocalyptic threat.
One last return to that coastal town, and the rain drove in from the Irish Sea, the October wind triumphing in gusts. Sheltered within our crawling car, we witnessed the season stamp its seal through a conquering night, barely held at bay by faltering, neon light. The streets were swept clear, the waves threatened to swamp.
We bid our farewell for the year. The dark rejoiced.
The same thing happens every time. Whenever I find myself in Waterstones, when I’m not there to pick up anything in particular but just to lose myself amongst the shelves, I pick up a fiction book, read a few lines, and think to myself, ‘I need to start writing.’ Then, in comparing, I realise that my writing is affected, full of pretension and hyperbole.
In contrast, these lines that I read are not fleshy but stark and sparing, dragged out from the marrow and offered up for the cardinals to kiss.
I spotted this on Facebook, in a neat little moment of synchronicity. I’ve just started reading Skarlet, which is the first of Thomas Emson’s Vampire Trinity series, and I’ve also been enjoying The Strain on tv. I really don’t know how I sleep at night.
Your little bit of escapism doesn’t always have to be highbrow, you know.
Anyway, have a great Friday evening people. Don’t go too heavy on the garlic.