calicovia

 Barrow-in-Furness town center is a place most people would call dodgy, to say the least. When visited in the daytime you wouldn't be blamed for assuming that you've accidentally stepped onto a set piece from Threads ; buildings sit permanently boarded up or smashed to pieces, backstreets devoid of life are flanked by urine-stained brick walls. The piercing screeches of seabirds echo off silent buildings, the kids on BMX bikes in tracksuits and the bald men with cauliflower ears are sprinkled about like a living Lowry painting. The options for entertainment are meagre. You could go to one of the two Greggs for a sausage roll, or brave the sea of young mothers and snotty children in McDonald's. CeX offers a selection of damaged, 50p DVDs. Ever wanted your very own copy of Stephen King's Rose Red ? How about Ladder 49 from 2004, covered in some odd coagulated stains?  You could window-shop in cash convertors, or get a paper cup of tea from the food van at the south end o...

I visit you when I close my eyes sometimes. In the empty evening office, And gazing from a train window My mind wanders to us. The present moment evaporates, my being shifts Here no longer, only with you. Your palm presses to mine, warm, clammy Our fingers interlocked, We are on a dusk-bathed lake shore. January wind carries the songbirds far away, It’s nice to see you again. As an oak leaf plucked and carried by a gale, my conscious falls. Falls through days and weeks, And months, and seasons The winter is gone now, the sun sits high We meet again in the memories of late summer. They are fragmented yet strong, Warmth on my skin, the fragrance of wine August light catches your golden hair Your eyes, brushing mine, tenderly  Emerald pools reflecting all that I am. The first words I spoke to you, I know the answer now. At night in the silence of my room, I shut my eyes I journey to your embrace again  I live with you forever there I never want to leave

Living in Japan for just over 11 weeks now, I've become fascinated with the nuances of Japanese realism and Japanese life in general. I adore the narrow neon-lit alleyways and the warm yet lively Izakayas and Ramen bars, I've learnt the art of weaving through the ocean of elderly ladies on bikes, and I know which vending machines to b-line for if I want a specific drink. Yet, despite being so very immersed in this compact world overflowing with new sounds, sights, and tastes, part of me does miss the everyday life of my mundane industrial down in North-West England. I don't want to be anywhere else right now; but my heart will always be there in amongst the run-down red brick tenements, the maze of terraced houses, the dodgy town-center pubs. I'm fortunate enough to have a very intelligent and talented sister who shares a similar burning passion for this experience, this everyday Northern English life. She's completing her A-Levels in art and film studies right now,...