PREVIEW OF SHORT STORY COLLECTION 'IN THE SAME STREETS YOU'LL WANDER ENDLESSLY'
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'It begins in following the city, under neon signs and such with the luminosity playing off skin and eyes all marvellous and drunkenly particular. Everybody making some sorta way on the planet, and words are beginning to make wonderful sense in this light and the streets are slick and reflecting the lucidity. Rain spraying from above pattering the everything around us and lifting the heat from the orange glow road... This is following where the train ceases it’s skate, underneath the metropolis we understand as true, in the most isolated city in the world, and Irish says well all love is probably selfish at the core and is especially cruel in the night, raining dark springtime’s and you long for the lost scents and wistfulness of blonde splendid summers, you wish away this miserable alcohol intake and the common swell of sex that surges with it, though hoping for things makes them nowhere near accurate, we step about then anyway and in some funk or mode of farce in terms of existence and being, as Chase would say “Then come the bourbons”.'

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