In the middle, the river was a deep green, scattered with rocks poking their noses up for a breath. The water charged around them, creating eddies and whirlpools. Closer to the bank, the current dragg...
Flora would have liked to ask her parents why the words ‘to father’ have such a different meaning from the words ‘to mother’.
Writing does not exist unless there is someone to read it, and each reader will take something different from a novel, from a chapter, from a line.
