New writing draft
He was a sprawl of a man. In his chair. In his bed. On his feet. On his back. And today he was staring, staring at the wall, through his… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
He was a sprawl of a man. In his chair. In his bed. On his feet. On his back. And today he was staring, staring at the wall, through his… Continue Reading
Sitting in Waterstones Piccadilly. Queues forming for Nicholas Sparks and two actors from his latest book to be made into a film. I’ll be there one of these days. I… Continue Reading
On Monday, I got up at 5:30, left the house at quarter to seven, caught the 07:23 train to Stowmarket, then the 08:15 from Stowmarket to Peterborough, and from there… Continue Reading
I was at home when he died. It was one of those dank March afternoons, with no sign of spring, and darkness peering in through the window too soon. The… Continue Reading