I make no apology about stirring the depths - every human longs to swim under water and see what lurks beneath

Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable.

A sensual life is a ghostly existence where you live on the surface and your soul passes through everything, touching nothing.

December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.

I'm a modern mountebank - I believe in Physiognomy - after all, we are in control of our face - it's the map of where we've been.

The abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart.

Ambition or contentment? This simple question led me back to a more balanced view of life and put me in touch with the Me I used to know.