COFFEE – STORY – SNAP
Snapshots of daily life paired with untold stories, spun by the imagination of a creative writer
Every Sunday afternoon, as a young boy, Father would take me out to the hills where we would set our boats to sail on the
We were sitting on a metal spoon like an egg, unsteady, any sudden movement about to finish us off. We weren’t going to reach the
I heard the shouting through my bedroom wall one night. It was a woman’s voice. She sounded like how my mum did when my older
My brother, George, never had many friends. It wasn’t that he was shy, he was just direct, a straight-talker, and people didn’t like that. He
Rugby was my stronghold, my fortress. It was rugby that gave me escape when Dad called again to say his business trip was going to
