Annie used to write love letters. She’d sit – in a café, in a park, a bus stop, a wine bar – look around for some stranger close by, and write them a love letter, in the same way an artist might do a sketch.
I, Tremahn Bremain, hereby vouch that I am of sound mind and body at the time of the construction of this document, hereafter referred to as The Will, on the 12th of July 2005.
Several caskets of roast beast takeaway, delivered earlier after being signaled for by horn, littered the expansive oak table.
At night they come to life…
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I came to this place for sanctuary, and instead find myself in the thrall of a theological debate.
Photograph by Andrew Cheverton. Tweet