Flora Neville

jamb-globe

The perils of a homeless soul and a soulless home

Home isn’t something we think about so much as sense. We smell some combination of clothes drying, onions frying and flowers dying. We hear the dog’s scuffling paws on the bare floorboards and anticipate the creaks as we stumble through corridors half asleep. We see the stains on the walls, the cracks in the ceiling and think, “I ought to… Read more →