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Overheard – Stories from Unnamed Places No.03
‘I’ve made a note in my journal,’ the blonde woman said, as the tram rattled around the corner to follow the embankment above the river. ‘It’s a countdown. Four years and thirty-six days. And then I’m...
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Edgeland – Stories from Unnamed Places No.04
She hadn’t been there for twenty years but when she reached the end of the row of houses she found she still knew the way. There it was, the footpath; a narrow strip of concrete between two high...
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Hagstones – Stories from Unnamed Places No.05
Ever since they discovered the town, J. had liked to walk on the beach. He would cross the sands from the pier to sit on the rocks and watch the fishermen, or to press on, following the sweep of the...
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Polished Wood – Stories from Unnamed Places No.06
Before he set out on the journey, he had been sure that with each stage along the way he would leave more and more behind. He would catch the bus from in front of the brand new railway station, where...
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Waving Flags – Stories from Unnamed Places No.07
Just after dawn, J. stood on the deck of the ferry as it moved slowly along the coast towards the port. Leaning on the railings, she looked down towards the dark waters below and then across to the...
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Night Train – Stories from Unnamed Places No.08
At the station he was one of the few that separated themselves out from the crowd of commuters staring mournfully at a departure board listing train after train delayed by the weather. Looking up at...
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Catapult – Stories from Unnamed Places No.09
They moved in together for the first time not long after she got out of hospital. It had been his job to find them a place, based on long conversations as she recovered from her physio sessions that...
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Out of season
The year starts slowly. Around the back of the boathouse, the vessels have been lifted up out of the water and tied to the chain fence in preparation for the winter freeze that can come at any moment....
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By the river
It is a cold morning down by the river, on one of those days when it doesn’t really get light. If there is activity here, it is to be found inside. In the red-brick workshop where, behind high...
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Joseph Roth and the Schiller Park in spring
The parks of a city reflect their surroundings, not so much in how they look but in who can be found wandering their pathways or lounging on their green spaces. In Berlin, many of the parks were...
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