Helen Dunmore

I wish I was away in Ingo
Far across the briny sea
Sailing over deepest waters
Where neither care nor worry trouble me.

In a world without air all you breathe is adventure!

The human longing for story is so powerful, so primitive, that it seems like something not learned, but locked into our genes.

For you where never my blood sister so no more shall I call you little sister.

We are creatures of story.

They wanted spring, of course they wanted it, more than anything. They longed for sun with every pore of their skin. But spring hurts. If spring can come, if things can be different, how can you bear what your existence has been?

The word 'personal' is one of my aversions. Personal loan. Personal hygiene. Personal safety. It's only a way of wrapping up bad news that you're in debt, or dirty, or likely to be mugged.