Speaking of Spoons

In which I talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings. No, wait, spoons. Just spoons. A spoon is a simple thing: a small bowl on the end of a handle. But in the last few years the word has come to mean much more than that. It … Continue reading Speaking of Spoons

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On The Nurturing Of My Senses

Trigger warning: Self-harm I regard them with fear and loathing, and I avoid them whenever possible. It’s their own fault. If only they’d be nicer to me, I’d be nicer to them, but instead they keep intruding when they’re not wanted and are a constant, grating, irritant. I have a really bad relationship with my … Continue reading On The Nurturing Of My Senses