Mark had fallen in love. She was a bitch, a mongrel, a cross between a Scottie and a Westie. Mark liked to think of her as a Scotsie, his little Scotsie. Well it wasn't strictly his Scotsie, it was a nine year old girl's little pooch. Every Saturday, he would see this grey wonder and ever since, on one ...

It is odd what sensory snapshots the brain chooses to reference when recounting an experience of a country. What the congealed grey matter selects, as though from a honk of research papers, to highlight in a lurid pink, green or yellow. Our poetic license tries to hold onto the delights, the scenic spectacles, yet the ...

Station Magazine releases its third issue and committed to print some of my foolish Rumblings, stationmag.co.uk As the hide of an animal could not escape the grasps of fashion (unable to mount even the most pitiful sprint from fashion’s jaws), film was well and truly enveloped from its birth. As Louis Lumière released what is to be ...

It stank in here and I needed fresh air, these putrid little balls below me were to blame, and frankly I wouldn’t wish them upon even a turtle-neck. I knew that my next opportunity to break this stinking dark containment would come soon…