Tag: AI Digital Art
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0306: Slightly Dangerous
(an off-piste Everywhere Poem gone for Six) “How is it in there?” asks a man. “In a word, chaos,” I tell him,“but worth it; the olive oil is half price,” and I close the boot of my car while his wife claims my empty trolley. I hate this placebut always return,navigating the demonic ritualsof warehouse…
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0206: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 12.1, Brigid’s Diary: Aries, France, Spring 1836 The Yellow House and the Thin Law We took rooms at 2 Place Lamartine in a yellow house that looked like warmth from a distance, and up close smelled of damp plaster, fried onions, and bodies worked too hard for too little. Around us, the neighbourhood spoke…
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26 May: Six Sentence Story
The Accent of Exile Brigid’s Diary: Part 11.2, Avignon, Spring 1836 I crushed a sprig of tansy between my fingers when the fishmonger’s voice split the morning, “Hear her English accent; she stirs rebellion,” and a bitter, cold metal scent spooled in me like warning smoke. The market thinned into silence so quickly it felt…
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19 May: Six Sentence Story
An Undated Note Inserted in Brigid’s Diary Part 11.1, Avignon If this diary is ever found, know first that we did not leave England lightly; we gave it our backs, our hands, our winters, and still it asked for more …more hunger, more silence, more gratitude for wages that would not keep bread before a…
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12 May: Six Sentence Story
Part 10: Brigid’s Diary, Valence’s Saturday Market Spring 1836: Sun broke over Valence like pardon too easily granted; the Rhône ran molten and bright, the air rinsed so clean of coal smoke that it felt like a trick. Beyond it, the cathedral held its spine against the sky while the market spilled colour into the…
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2204: Six Sentence Story
Part 9: Brigid’s Diary, The Market at Vienne To Bear Witness We stepped off the boat at Vienne, and the town met us with a quiet menace — uneven stones slick with thaw, my hems dragging through muck, Felreil’s boots slipping as if the ground itself had learned mistrust. Saturday market pulled us by the…
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1404: Six Sentence Story
Part 8: Brigid’s Diary, Night on the Rhône — Half-Light and Wake That night on the river I learned how sound can become a weight, the engine’s pulse settling into my bones until sleep itself felt mechanical. The lanterns shook in their brasses, and the Rhône carried a smell of acrid silt and sulfur embers…
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0804: Six Sentence Story
The Steamboat — The First Descent Brigid’s Diary, Episode 06: April 1834 The steamboat called “Le Marsouin” shouldered the Rhône with a relentless thump-thump-thump, its side wheels beating water into obedience while the sound ran the banks like a bruise. The engine breathed deep and hoarse beneath us, heat and hiss rattling the wooden hull…
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3103: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary: Part 06, Lyon First Motion on the Rhône Steamboat The steamboat did not startle me; it announced itself, breath thick with coal, pistons beating like a heart forced into discipline, smoke writing its claim across the Rhône as though the river had been waiting to be corrected. I watched the paddle bite water…
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2403: Six Sentence Story
Presqu’île: Where the Rivers Decide Brigid’s Diary, Episode 05: March 1834 Presqu’île narrowed beneath our feet like a blade, and the city balanced on it; north behind us, south ahead — and my thoughts still full of noises that would not stop. At the waterline a pale seam of silt and foam kept writing and…
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