My Tribe. August 2016.

Dear Rowley, Apparently I have broken some kind of world record in Toronto from landing at Pearson airport to enforced incarceration in an institution dedicated to mental ‘well-being’. It took me just under twenty-four hours to find myself on Nice … Continue reading

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In Her Solitude. February 2012.

Dear Rowley, Slightly chilling, isn’t it, that Whitney Houston died alone in a hotel room as a guest for Grammy Awards when the artists who had long eclipsed her were probably surrounded by stylists, publicists, fans and record producers making … Continue reading

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