Stories that fly under a dark banner.

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15 new illustrations for stories.

The Hat Maker's Daughter

The Sand Swimmer

The Tree with Vermillion Leaves

The Signal of the Second Spring

The Wise Mouse and the Sad King

The Zuckerman Cascade

The Twisted Track

The Rhino House

La Zone Grise

A Picnic with Darwin.

The Black Flag

The Quiet Lives of Still Things

The Lady in the Storm

The Stars in Twin Lakes

The Cabinet of Rodin


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Let a Hundred Flowers Bloom.

Let a Hundred Flowers Bloom


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I Dreamed One Day a Library I would Build.

After days of tweaking and changing images, researching different book spines and thinking about which ones would represent the content of the stories, I have finally produced 16 book spines. I hope you like them. I’m going to spend a while trying to create an interactive bookshelf so you can select a story, find the description and read it.

Library

Read more short stories at Supernova1987


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Soft is the Whisper of the Cooling Universe

Short Stories

Read short stories at Supernova1987


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Tired Words

Tired Words

See other images stacked in the cupboard in Poetry Jars


Difference

Supernova1987

In need of some feedback here. I have two versions of difference. The first used a very cartoon-like thought bubble. The more I looked at it over the course of the day and the photographs I used, the more I felt I hadn’t done justice to the brick. So I produced a more formal image. Feedback and let me know which one you prefer.

Difference II

leaf on the wind

See other images stacked in the cupboard in Poetry Jars

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Enter the Realm of the Dark Banner…


The Quick and the Dead.

Supernova1987

thatcher

Artist Kaya Mar walking with painting in Westminster.

Once two Coptic monks sat in the desert.
One said to the other, “In order to understand others better, we should understand why they argue.”
The other said, “Perhaps we should have an argument.”
“I agree.” said the First.
“That is my rock.” said the Second pointing to a rock at their feet.
“Ok. You can have it.” Said the First.
“But I don’t want it.” Said the Second.
“Ok. I will have it.” Said the First.
“But it is mine.” Said the Second.
“Ok. Let us leave it where it is.” Said the First.
After a silence, the two Monks returned to their monastery, still unable to understand why people argue with each other.

Only the living can argue. The dead are as satisfied as they will ever be.

 
Tick

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The Mirror on Your Back.

Shh! Turn around…

spinning man

The poems buzz and rattle in the wires, so much I’ve had to encase them in images to quiet them and hold them still. Now they stand in jars stacked neatly in the gallery. Open them and take a sniff, dip your finger and taste them if you dare. But when you are done, make sure you replace the lid. They will spill and stain if you leave them open.


ode to fustat

uncertain moon

air and the the water

the only question

dream within a dream

Between the shadow and the soul

Here in the pit

Firebird

Moon of Barduk

retreat of winter

Hemmingway

truth and symmetry

pale horizon

A perfect flaw

slowing

the beach

Sky Knowledge

Doubting the Dawn

tick of the night watch

Words of Sand

music makers

styx

zenon

wordsworth

SignalThe following Images were produced to accompany a short story called The Signal of the Second Spring. You can read the full story HERE or click on the images to view them all.


The Universe

The Sun

The Air

The Earth

An Idea

The Book

The City

An Army

A King

Supernova1987

carp

This story was written for “One Point Three” a compilation on Rednetic Recordings. You can visit the site here to find out more: Rednetic Recordings: One Point Three

At the end of the story you will find the Signal Panels that were developed as the inspiration for the story.

The Signal of the Second Spring.

Anitya sat on the bridge, watching carp play with the seeds she dropped with her tiny hands. At four years old, she had the grace of a dancer seen all too long ago, perhaps imagined. The seeds left her hands in graceful loops that traced patterns across the air between bridge and water. She sat, as always, with her hair draped across her left shoulder. When she saw Mother enter the garden, she quickly adjusted it, placing it neatly above her head. She rose and smiled at Mother then giggled slightly as something fell and…

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