The Prisoner

It had been part of the NVDA training but Em didn’t really know how to go floppy so she just lay down on the road

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Stop the Press: a poem

I’m straddling a tube. Blanket-resistant, my legs feel newborn and frosted. On our web there’s a scrum, a swollen mess of cross-stitch, a stranded, tentacled

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Parklife, June 2020

This is a short story and another postscript to the e-book, FOR LIFE (which you can download for a donation to XR) about rebels Manda

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