rask_balavoine
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My stories
New Year's Day, Belfast
... inside Michael’s the air was warm and coffee-laden and breathing it was like breathing espresso shots and I remembered I had company and turned back to Hemingway
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- 711 reads
Messing about near Easkey
Mist began to close in and I felt the call of the sea. I propped my bike up against a post and threw off all my wet clothes,
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- 764 reads
Scapegoats
.. an intense, almost palpable sadness that flowed from him, making it seem unlikely that the sun would ever rise again over Genoa
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- 978 reads
Murder at the Quacking Duck.
Bit by bit reality sunk in, pieces of a jigsaw started coming together turning chaos very gradually into order, but many pieces were missing or in the wrong place
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- 762 reads
Delhi and Dostoyevsky (sequel to Birthday on a Train)
He wondered aloud about how much my underwear had cost but soon took the hint that it wasn’t for sale ...
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- 1008 reads