My First. The room was small and insignificant. One of those sad back-of-the-mall jobs. The guy, whose name I didn’t bother to enquire, was middle-aged, unkempt, not particularly friendly, yet somehow entirely trustworthy in the eyes of this 18-year-old. He pointed at his wall of frames and, in a thick East London accent, asked meContinue reading “5 x 100-Word Stories”
CREATIVE NOTES 