The sound of the machines that never goes away, the last thing I hear at night and the gentle breath that greets me when I wake up before anyone else. Like the sigh of the wind through ancient tree-bound mountains, with flashing leds and un-set clocks.
Brendan Peveril, freelance writer of fiction, non-fiction and comics.
Two chapters left and I’m stuck. I’m also doing things that make no sense like writing the last half of the book out in long hand because, you know, writing a novel isn’t hard enough, so why wouldn’t I make more work for myself.