'Alone in the water, she rose and fell with every wave, counting each one in turn, becoming each one. Was this then her destiny? All was quiet, save for a lone voice from within. It was whispering to her, coaxing her, soothing her, murdering her. 'Close your eyes, go to sleep now.' With genuine love and understanding, a single tear trickled down her cheek to the slowly forming smile. Jumbled thoughts and half-lost memories suddenly became clear to her. Now she understood. Closing her eyes, she rose with the ninth wave.'
A collection of stories meticulously composed and each with their own hidden meaning. But the meaning may be different to the individual reader.
'I breathe shallow deep inside of me. I see the cracked dusty surface of your bedroom floor, the stained dry sun bleached plain that begs for more. We drift in and out of conscious conversation…'
A collection of prose.
'I can see angels standing around you.
They shimmer like mirrors in the woodlands of summer. They shimmer like mirrors in the gardens of summer.'
I have always loved the winter months with their crisp mornings, candlelight and promise of snow. Hounds Of Winter is a collection of prose relating to my adoration of the cold months, my fondness for the winter landscape with its pale blue skies and bare trees; for autumn and winter nights and the season's rituals and feasting. Christmas features, its fables, folklore and of course, its lushness. This is my celebration of the cold months from late autumn to well into the New Year. It was one of my favourite books to write and release.
'Jig Of Life' is a collection of short tales, which could, given time, be expanded into longer stories. The stories are presented as edits from the originals. Tales of love, of life, of death and sacrifice, but most of all, love.
This book is for the living yet has been inspired by friends from the past.
'A room of white pure marble, this is where I start my journey. I let my body fill with love and the voyage starts to begin.'
A glimpse into summer through the language of words.
'I dream only of loss, the fine silver tinged gossamer threads of the past.'
Initial copies came with a disc of instrumental music. Opening with the soft sound of seagulls, a piano chord leads straight into 'Wonderful Snowflake.' The song has muted lullabies set against a backdrop sound of falling snow and ends with sleigh bells. 'Keep falling, I'll find you, Keep falling, I'll find you.'
'Mistraldespair' is a short piano chord song with the refrain by 'Be with me always, day and night.' Listen carefully through a set of headphones and you will hear a submarine surfacing and Morse code typing out S.O.S.
The song mixes straight into 'Eider Falls At Lake Tahoe,' a second piano led track with more sound effects added, a thunderstorm, howling wind, hounds barking and pouring rain finally ending with the sound of a helicopter hovering above. 'The Sensual World' is a rousing Arabic flute affair, partly calypso with vocals merging into 'Sunset' a short tranquil piece ending with the sound of seagulls. The final track and a late addition was fondly remembered as, “the last song recorded around midnight one Friday night as we were drinking wine.” 'Home For Christmas' is inspired by old holiday. 'You know that I am here. I will be waiting for your footsteps. And when you are here, I know you will be home for Christmas.'
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