I love poetry though it has never been a skill I felt I’d mastered in the least; yet knowing that I haven’t tried as hard as I should have done, but in all my attempts the confirmation that I couldn’t apply the skill was apparent.Continue reading “Corset”
JULIET WAS DRAWN by the intensely-lit moon piercing the lace curtains, and noticed the interplay of rich bright colours and patterns being penned against the disappearing twilight sky, emerging as her signature. It was as if the sky was conflating the unfurling letters which were briefly shimmering, and the desolate pitch of space.
At that very point she felt a force pulling her vigorously towards the drawing-room window, where she had sat pondering the sky, and the shutters forcefully opened as if pulled by some supernatural force. She somehow knew that it was the moon because it had beckoned to her in her recurring dream, although she had never succumbed to it. Continue reading “The Skies”
Known as Erté, a French artist, Russian-born Romain de Tirtoff (23/11/ 1892 – 21/041990) he was a master of his craft. His dynamic fashion illustrations belong to a totally different order of sensuality that is illustrious and which is elaborately told through his fantastical couture and lofty designs.
A submitted story : The author wishes to remain anonymous.
She was a cold woman with a snowball for a heart. Her favourite breakfast cereal was Frosties. She liked her white wine ice-cold and rarely smiled to reveal iceberg dazzling teeth. She never wanted children, never needed a man for long and preferred witty dead writers to dull unalive people. She had a passion for Schubert, shoes and sherry. She was called Shirley and wasn’t renowned for being early. Her eyes had a greenish sheen to them but most days reflected the weather: a cloudy grey. She was short-sighted but too vain to wear glasses. What she saw of the world she didn’t exactly like; her vision was a bit bitter you could say. Continue reading “Shirley”