Mabh Savage

We sit in the living room and listen to the wind and rain, each drop a fat slap on the box window, like being in a large tent or some sort of shopping container — slap, slap, slap while the trees bend impossibly far.

Though the Solstice has passed and the days are lengthening night still looms, evening drawing painfully close even at three thirty in the afternoon, the gloom thickened by the weather