Krakow

A winter freeze halts the flow of the river Vistula,

A museum preserves the unfair deaths of innocence alive,

The old bricks merge with new and old winds,

Battle with mass historic cruelty.

(more…)

Advertisements

The Ghost of John Masefield

It’s 8 am and the eastern wind blows through the deserted high street of Rock Ferry. I haven’t spotted any tumbleweed yet, but with the gathering winter wind, yet to reach full potential; it’s surely just around the corner. I seek shelter and the public house is the preferred choice. Approaching the entrance, I remove my gloves and attempt to open the doors. (more…)