Posts in Brigitte
Summer

The sun wriggled itself through the closed shutters, drawing thin lines on the wooden floors, shimmering shapes on the wall. The bed was unfamiliar. Martha was alone, her body floating between the sheets, disoriented and out of time. Where was she again? Why was Paul not in the bed with her? She took a deep breath, eyes still closed. The warm smell of coffee drifted into the room. She smiled, and still lying on the bed, pictured Paul, in the kitchen downstairs, with the breakfast table laid, waiting for her. And then she remembered. Emma the new helper was downstairs, preparing breakfast for the guests. Paul was sleeping, on a narrow bed by her side, breathing gently, as if everything was normal. Soon the nurse would knock on the door, to help Paul get ready, like she had done every day since the accident.

Read More
TU

Tu attends sans impatience que la nuit enveloppe la maison. Souffle les bougies. Diffuse un silence épais qui amortit les bruits. Tu sais le moment propice. Tu glisses hors de ton lit. Il craque à peine. Pieds nus sur le parquet. Tu ouvres doucement la porte de ta chambre. Avances le pied droit sur le dallage du couloir. Le contact est froid mais tu préfères sentir chaque dalle sous tes pieds nus. Surtout éviter la dalle descellée qui tinte sous les pas.

Read More
An Oyster for Christmas

It all started with a misplaced Oyster card which I thought was in my usual coat pocket. One morning, we woke up to freezing weather. I changed coats and used my contactless debit card. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas. 

We went on holiday with my family in France. London, the grey tube station, deep escalators and the nasal voices chanting “mind the gap” were far away. 

Read More