Travel writing and photography from the Former Soviet Union and Europe. I am a British travel writer. I now live in London, but travel to Russia and eight other countries in the CIS and New East, as part of my job as a wine and spirits analyst. Is a collection of short stories and photo sets, about the people and places that have captured my imagination during my travels. I hope you will enjoy them. There are also links to feature articles and travel guides that I have written for.

It opens your heart, when things fall apart. And what had seemed so mundane now is luminous and strange. Conversation about a pivotal summer. Do you remember your summer of 18? 18 years, I mean, not 2018. That was the most jacked up summer.

The Music, Poetry and Writings of Thurstan Bassett. Asymp; Leave a comment. 8216;And I in my dreams, behold the Hesperides. My life has been a questing voyage. In search of the golden apples. They lie beyond the Western realms. Or somewhere there afar,. In oceans where the great winds blow. And burns the Evening Star. The air is full of music there. And laughter soft and clear,.

And Other Food for the Soul. Trying to keep the pain at arms length. Im hiding from you the best of the broke parts. All the fabulous gorilla glued fractures of my heart. My processed head in the air. Twirling with a production of great care. No one knows about my vibrating underwear.

Too often mainstream media ignore or mistranlates the voices and lives of women who are immigrants, poor, or lack certain academic credentials There are other realties outside of the stories documented by big media Write Out Loud is a space for these voices to be heard and more importantly documented. Women are introduced to the concepts of.

Poetry, poetry, and poetry. Plus my thougts on Papua New Guinea. Where lights of dawn crash and burn. Amidst tranquilityy of its silence. Whose dusts never rise an inch. Lying still in perpetual sleep. Tis a place sleep never cease. Rest is always taken for granted.

I am your opus, I am your valuable. Mdash; Leave a comment. Places mold into faces, all together. In a cauldron of abhorrence and resentment. On a pearly body awash in moonlight. Buzzes wearily around the window bars. All night, a daunting, faceless monster. Screams its way through my mouth.