There are days I wake already falling. Not from a rabbit hole but from yesterday's certainty, watching it unravel before my feet. The maps insist there should be roads here. Instead, conversations with what feels abstract, questions that answer themselves, doors that ask for smaller versions of me and clocks that refuse to recognise the…
I have learned to inhabitthe spaces between words,where truth sitslike morning dew on grass. Once, I thought strength meanttaking up less space,folding myself into cornersuntil my edges disappeared. But wisdom comesin the gentle unfurlinglike ferns in spring,patient and inevitable. My heart has becomea listening room,walls weathered softfrom holding others' stories. There is no grandeur here,only…
I stand on the threshold,a life I no longer recognise behind me,the future unformed,like mist before dawn. Everything I once held closeslips away quietlyobjects, habits, even the homethat has cradled me for years.It is still here, yet no longer feels the same. There is no visual,no shape as to what comes next.Only a knowing deep,…
Nestled quietly in the Scottish Borders, the town of Duns is not a place that screams for attention. Before visiting, I’d never heard of it. However it is a beautiful town and steeped in history. After attending its annual theatre and performing arts festival Duns Playfest, I’ve realized that it is home to something truly extraordinary. This unassuming town bursts into life for nine days each May, becoming the stage for a celebration of creativity, passion and community that is both powerful and enchanting.