A started writin poetry tha wa full o teenage angst when a was 17 just after movin away from an amazing theatre scene in Derbyshire. Movin quickly on t struggling t find a voice, which as bin a scrappy, dirty fight that as yet no clear winner at tha last bell.
Ideas, images, stories an messages emerge, burst their way out t tha page. T be left mangled or in need of nurture from tha dreaded red pen.
The page to fill.
With words and images.
A void into which sometimes comes beauty.